


Waiting For The Fall

by WilderMind



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Eventual Smut, F/M, I cry about Bucky a lot, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:59:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 68,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3382397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WilderMind/pseuds/WilderMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's a ghost. A Shadow. Nothing more than a whisper on lips of spies and heroes. Cara Fox should have simply let herself fade away during the chaos surrounding the fall of SHIELD, but instead chooses to track down the notorious Winter Soldier.<br/>Instead of the ruthless killer she expects, she finds a lost and broken man, and sets out to protect him against those who wish to turn him back into the weapon he once was.<br/>What she doesn't realize is, she might be just as lost as he is, and their enemies will stop at nothing to find them.<br/>Together, they will face the world alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Mission

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little nervous, as this is my first time publishing a story here, so let's see how well this actually works (I'm actually incredibly nervous. My hands are shaking.) Something's bound to go wrong, as I'm still trying to figure everything out, but I'll try to fix all that later.  
> I hope you like it, and thank you for reading!

**A Word From The Author:**

One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret, never to be told.

Eight for a wish.

Nine for a kiss.

Ten for a little bird you must not miss.

-Nursery Rhyme

* * *

 

Cara didn’t even see him.

It was crowded, the Captain America exhibit. People swarmed to learn about the man, from his past and present, and about those who fought and lived with him.

She ran straight into him. His hands gripped her arms, just under the shoulder, keeping her steady while at the same time looking extremely threatening. Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his. Cara stared at the man that she had run into, who now held her arms in a death grip. His dark blue eyes bore into hers, although they seemed distant, and they were of course, now glaring at her.

“Watch where you’re going,” he snapped, his voice sounding like it hadn’t been used in a long time.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I wasn't paying attention."

"It's okay," he said quietly, his mood changing abruptly. He seemed to try and release her, but his left arm simply tightened. His hand was covered in glove. He frowned at it. "Damnit," he muttered, his other hand flying to his wrist. After a moment of struggling with it, he let her go, stumbling backwards. Looking at the ground, he turned to walk away, weaving through the crowds and cradling his arm like he was hurt.

"What's your name?" She asked, following him. He glanced back down at her, pausing for a second.

"I… I- My name is… Bucky. My name is Bucky."

"Cara."

"Nice to meet you," he said, not looking at her. He kept walking.

“How do you like the exhibit?” She said, trying to make small talk.

“It’s okay,” he said, staring at a distant place on the wall. “Some of it’s inaccurate.”

“Really?”

He nodded, still not looking at her. His eyes were distant.

“Maybe I’ll see you around, yeah?” Her fingers brushed his arm. He flinched slightly.

“Yeah. Around.”

He still didn’t look at her. He kept walking. Cara smiled slightly as she stopped and turned around, facing the Bucky Barnes exhibit. That smile turned into smirk as she looked down at her phone, a small green dot moving away from her current position. Putting it back in her pocket, she removed the light and translucent glove on her left off, the extra trackers still on it. Placing it into her bag, she looked at the black and white picture of Bucky in front of her, and crossed her arms.

 _Phase 1, complete,_ she thought to herself, sighing as she studied his features. _Now then, for a ghost story, you weren’t that hard to find, now were you?_  

* * *

_**A Few Weeks Earlier** _

“I can take care of myself,” Cara said, speaking into her phone. She sat in her hotel room, feet tucked under her as she lay curled in the chair by the window, watching the people move in the streets below.

“Not this time you can’t,” the cool voice said.

“I’ve been doing this, this shouldn’t be any different.”

“You understand what’s going to happen-”

“Because you won’t tell me.”

“Listen,” she heard Natasha snap. Her fellow spy sound as anxious as she’d ever heard. “This is it. There’s no more SHIELD after today. And all your secrets are going to be dumped everywhere. Everyone will know who you are. They will know what you are. The shit they have on you, you’ll be dead by next week, if you do not go under _now_.”

Cara sighed, untangling her legs and leaning forward. “What are you doing, Natasha? What’s happening?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Is Steve there?”

“Yes.”

“Clint?”

“No.”

“Is that why you’re so grumpy?”

“I’m not grumpy!” Natasha, in a very grumpy way. “Look, I’m just about done. Today, I’ve been shot-”

“Wait, you’ve been shot?!”

“Yes, by Steve Roger’s own best friend, who is actually the Winter Soldier, and-”

“What?”

“Yes, James Barnes is the Winter Soldier, stop interrupting,” Natasha said. “And now I have to dismantle what has been keeping both our secrets, and I’m trying to protect you, and you are sassing me! And that isn’t even taking into account the rest of my week!”

“Relax, Natasha,” she said, standing up and stretching. “I’ll go into hiding. Not even you’ll be able to find me.”

“Yeah, right. Don’t forget who you are talking to.”

“Fine, you’d be able to find me. No one else.”

“Good.”

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

There was a pause on the other end. “Yeah. Soon. Take care of yourself, Cara. And don’t go anywhere near anything SHIELD related today.”

Before she could say another word, Natasha hung up. Cara sighed, wrapping her arms around herself as she looked out the window. People in suits pushed passed each other, and tourists took pictures.

Washington D.C.

She had had a job here. A quick information steal for SHIELD. It was easy, and she had transferred it this morning. They had given her a week off, and she had spent the past day lazing around in her room, sitting by the window, enjoying the simpleness of doing nothing. When Natasha had called, she had been surprised. Nat usually never called while she was working, and she had been doing that a lot lately. SHIELD had assigned her to work with the famed Steve Rogers, and that was eating up all her time.

Turning away, she began to pack up, hand hovering over the handgun in the bottom of her bag, loaded and ready to go at a moments notice. She sighed, taking it out and replacing it with a shirt. She got dressed as well, pulling on simple clothes that would not attract any extra attention. Carefully, she wiped down every surface, making sure not to leave behind a trace. The last thing she did was slide gun into the holster at her side, pulling on her jacket over it, her bright red hair standing out in sharp contrast to the black material.

Picking up her bag, she let her eyes dart around her, making sure she didn’t miss anything. It was a nice room, white blankets and tan walls, a overlooking the street, completely secured and paid for by SHIELD.

What was she going to do when they were gone? She didn’t know anything else. She could freelance, she supposed, or get a job at another agency, but she had been with SHIELD practically her entire life.

This was it.

She fought down a twinge of terror. She’d be okay. She could take care of herself, she knew she could. Sighing quietly, she left the room, walking down the hallway. It was empty, her footsteps muffled by the carpet. She smiled politely as she checked out, leaving the hotel like any other guest. They didn’t notice gun under her jacket, or the fight hidden in her stance, or the scar on her collarbone, just visible under her shirt.

She got in her car, sleek and black, unidentifiable in a crowd, tossing her bag into the back seat. As she started the engine, she wondered what she was going to do. She needed to get get her fake documents, but where she kept them was by the Triskelion. Where Natasha had told her not to near.

Well. She needed those papers. So, she would have to go to the eye of the storm, and hope all was calm.

* * *

She smiled grimly as she gathered the papers into her arms, putting them into her bag. The storage unit was small, filled with things that no one would think twice of if they came in. A desk, a few cardboard boxes, even a rocking horse. And in the corner was a box with a picture of a tea set on it. That where she kept her passports, social security numbers, untraceable money. Another identity. Although, her first name was her middle name. Allison Cara Fox. Her new name. SHIELD would have disapproved. It was too similar, too unsafe. She should simply rebuild herself, as she had been taught. But this, this was for a long term. She might never be Cara Calista Fletcher again. She wanted to keep that little bit of herself, even if it went against everything everyone had taught her.

It was her fellow spy Natasha who had told her to make this second identity. To tell no one, not even her, about it, as everyone could be compromised, and she had to be ready to run at a moments notice.

And she would be running.

She shut her eyes, ignoring the wave of panic bubbling in her chest. Once she found something to do, a new mission, maybe she could ignore her pounding heart. An explosion shook her from her thoughts. Running outside, she saw three ships outside the Triskelion. And one was falling. Her breath caught. So that’s what they were doing. She walked forward only knowing that she had to help.

* * *

She watched the third ship fall, from a place on the edge of the water, and her trained eyes had watched a man fall from it. She knew who it was. And it made her heart stop. She had no way to reach him. Captain America would drown. She could jump in, but the chances of ever finding him in the murky water was minuscule. He was going to die, and there was absolutely nothing she could do. 

Seconds dragged on into minutes, and just as she had given up all hope, she saw him.

A few feet away, was a man, hair long and brown, hanging in his face. His wearing black gear, arm a silver color. A metal arm. And he was dragging the body of Steve Rogers behind him.

She knew who he was. She had read the files.

It was the Winter Soldier. And apparently, it was also Steve’s best friend. He wouldn’t see her, if she didn’t move. His "real" arm was curled around his middle, dislocated at the shoulder, and he was stumbling like he was in pain. Glancing around, he dropped the other man to the ground. And that was it. He was walking away, going the opposite direction from where she was now.

As he disappeared, she ran forward, dropping to Steve’s side, and checking his pulse. She release a sigh of relief as she felt a steady, if weak beat beneath her fingers (knowing that he wasn't out of the woods yet. He was bleeding, obviously shot, probably had several broken ribs, but for now, Steve Rogers was alive).

The Winter Soldier had saved him. He didn’t have to. He could’ve let him die.

But he didn’t.

There was still a good man in there. And he was alone, in a very unforgiving world. People would be hunting him. And she knew what that was like. Cara stood up, dialing 911, as she thought about it.

She had a new mission.

She was going to protect the Winter Soldier. 


	2. The World Behold

Her eyes scanned the information, as it came, running multiple programs to track the movements of the man. Bucky. That was his name. Bucky.  
It had been almost three weeks since SHIELD had fallen, only a few days since she had seen him in the Captain America exhibit. He hadn’t made a move, and neither had she. The most he had down was switch locations.  
She presently sat in a cafe, the late daylight filtering in, turning everything a pale gold color. It was nearly empty. Everyone was pretty shaken up by the revelation of HYDRA, preferring the safety of their homes to the outdoors.  
Cara leaned back, running a hand through her hair, and staring at her laptop. He was going to New York. Of course he was. He needed to find himself, and where else to go but to the beginning. She leaned back, wondering how she was going to get there before him, to have time to set up a cover. He'd be on foot, probably. He had nothing.  
She had an apartment there, near Stark Tower. She had it set up as a safe house, completely off the grid. SHIELD didn't even know about it, so it wouldn't be with the secrets spilled all over the Internet. She could call in a few favors, have it furnished and livable.  
Cara smiled slightly, pulling her keys to her out of her pocket and flipping them in her hand. Looks like she was going on a little road trip.

* * *

Bucky walked along the side of the road, keeping his head down. What little things he had were stuffed into a backpack on his shoulder, including his old uniform. Even though it was late in the afternoon, it was dark, storm clouds gathering overhead. A few raindrops, spatter down on him, and he wrapped his arms tighter around himself, shivering despite himself.  
A car's headlights shone behind him, slowing down. He glanced away as the window rolled down.  
"Do you need a ride?" A feminine voice said. She sounded familiar. Looking in, he saw the woman from the Smithsonian, her curly red hair falling into her green eyes. She blinked in recognition. "I know you... You were at the exhibit."  
He nodded.  
"Do you need a ride?"  
"I'm fine," he said.  
"No, you're not. It's raining, and these roads are dangerous."  
"You shouldn't be picking up strange men, then."  
"I can take care of myself," she said, leaning over and opening the door. "Now, please get in."  
"No."  
"I will follow you."  
"I don't care."  
"Look, just until it stops raining. Please."  
He sighed. It was wet, and cold. She didn't seem too bad. If she worked for anyone, he could take her.  
Sliding into the car, he put his bag at his feet, pushing himself as far against the wall as he could. She watched him carefully, and began to drive again.  
"Bucky, right?" She said. He nodded.  
"You're Cara." She returned the nod, keeping her eyes on the road. She was alert, though, body language tense. If he was the type of person to try something, he had no doubt she had a plan.  
"Where are you going?"  
"New York."  
"Oh. Good. Same place." He glanced back at her. Her hands were wrapped loosely around the steering wheel, fingers tapping quietly. The silence that fell around them was not awkward, but not exactly comfortable either.  
The radio quiet music, and he caught a few of the lyrics.  
Love, carry me in, carry me in, held down by my words and the weight of my sins.  
Fear, fear of myself, fear of myself, all these books on the shelf, yeah they're dusty again.  
He turned to the window. The rain came down harder, through the dark green trees lining the side of the road. The sky nearly black. He was sure there was a memory like this. A memory where the rain poured whilea voice spoke quietly, the words caught in static. A voice that was so familiar. A voice that had called out to him on the bridge. A voice who had said the words that had triggered the flashing memories that sometimes in his head, that had triggered the remembrance of fragments of a life he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know what he lost, or what he had done.  
Now, I see it's me, my splintered eye, climbing up the wall, waiting for the fall.  
Tonight, I think I'll lose my mind, carry me away, carry me away.  
I sit and watch the flowers grow, some day they'll die.  
I sit and watch the world behold, carry me away, carry me away.  
“You okay?” Cara said suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. He glanced sharply over at her. She frowned. “Your eyes got all distant.” She lifted her hand off the steering wheel, waving it for emphasis.   
Bucky nodded, turning out the window again. The rain had gotten worse. He could barely see out the window. Cara was leaning forward, squinting through the rain.  
He saw it at the same time she did. A figure stood in the center of the road.  
"Shit!" Cara said, swerving. She desperately tried to straighten it. Unfortunately, the ground was just uneven enough to make them flip, despite her best efforts. It took less than a few seconds for Bucky to collect himself. This was not his first car crash. They landed on the driver side, so Bucky was above her. He moved so that when he undid his seatbelt he wouldn't fall on her, and opened the door, letting in the torrent of rainwater. He heard Cara coughing. Glancing down, he saw her, struggling to sit up and not cut her hands on the glass.  
"You okay?" He called down to her. She groaned in response. He sighed, grabbing her upper arm, and pulling her out after him. As he put her down next to him, he looked up at the road, seeing the same figure staring down at them, in a fighting stance.  
Bucky felt his fist tighten, preparing for whatever was going to happen next. Cara was cradling her arm, hair matted from the rain. She was shaking slightly, and would obviously be no use. She was glaring upwards, in the same direction as him, not at all afraid.  
He turned back, as a burst of lightning lit up the man's face. His eyes were feral, mouth twisted into a snarling smile. As the light faded, the man lept down, hand extended like a claw. Bucky lifted his arm, at the same time pushing Cara away. The man's nails collided on his arm, scratching the metal with a series of sparks, and a sickeningly high pitched sound. The man's other hand lashed out, catching his shoulder. He could feel the nails tear a gash, and kicked him hard in the chest. Bucky wasted no time pulling a knife from his pocket and walking forward. The man grinned.  
"Barnes," he said, sneering. "I heard you were messed up by HYDRA. Pity."  
Bucky hesitated. "How do you know who I am?"  
"What? Don't remember me?" He lunged forward, narrowly missing Bucky's face, as he punched him in stomach. Bucky grunted, flipping the knife in his hand, and slamming down into the man's back. The other man stumbled back, towards where he had knocked Cara, hand flying towards the embedded knife. Instead of falling the ground, he grinned, and yanked it out, hurling it to the ground at his feet. Glancing down at the fallen woman, he yanked her up, putting his claws at her neck. He dug in his fingernails enough to make it bleed, the blood mixing with the rainwater, and running down onto her shirt.  
"You made quite a lot of noise, Barnes," he said. "Caught a lot of people's attention. Now, if you don't want to see me tear out her throat, you'll come with me."  
Cara gripped his hand, trying in vain to pull it off. Her green eyes met his. Her gaze was steady, unwavering. Quietly, she let her hand drop to her side, pulling out a knife of her own, and quickly slashing at his arm, nearly severing it at the wrist. The man howled, pulling sharply back, releasing her. It gave Bucky enough time to run forward, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the road. Her injured arm was still tucked up to her chest.  
After a few minutes, when there was no sign of them being followed, he slowed.  
"Who was he?" Cara said, trying to catch her breath. "He seemed to know you."  
"I've never seen him before in my life."  
"Are you sure about that?"  
"Yes!"  
She nodded. He looked at her. She must've been freezing. Her jacket had been left in the car, her shirt soaked with blood and water. Her wet hair stuck to her face and arms, a dark red color. He hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a scar on her chest, just under her collarbone. It looked like it came from a knife, or something like it. Glass or debris would have left a more jagged line. Her hand was still in his. He released it quickly, stepping away from her. She began to walk forward, and her arm was probably sprained or broken from how she held it against her chest.  
"Let me see," he said, surprising himself. She paused, looking back.  
"What?"  
"Your arm."  
"Oh," she said. She extended it tentatively. He roughly took it, trying to ignore how she winced when he did. He softened his touch slightly. He wasn’t used to caring for other people’s injuries. Hell, he wasn’t used to caring for to caring for his own. Usually, a specialised team of doctors did that for him. It didn't look broken, at least.  
"You'll be fine."  
He pushed passed her, beginning the walk down the road. She followed him, silently.  
After a few minutes, he turned back to her.  
"Where did you get that knife?" he asked her. The way she had handled it. Like a professional. Somehow she had managed to slash it to give them enough time to get away, nearly taking off his hand. And she wasn't panicking. There was something about her. Something that made him sure she was not exactly who she said she was.  
"I told you I can take care of myself," she said. She smiled slightly. "Do you really think I would pick up a hitchhiker and not be armed?"  
"I wasn't hitch hiking," he mumbled. She rolled her eyes, walking beside him. While there was still a decent amount of space between them, he could feel her beginning to shiver violently. He sighed again, pulling off his coat, complete with the bloody gash in the upper arm. He placed it on her shoulders, not meeting her eyes. He didn't need it really. He had a higher tolerance for the cold. She blinked up at him.  
"You didn't need to do that."  
"Don't waste it," he said. She pulled it tighter around her shoulders.  
"Thank you," she whispered.  
He nodded, looking forward. Anywhere but at her.  
They continued down the nearly abandoned road in silence.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on the bad guy in this chapter... In this story, all the Marvel movies (MCU, X Men, Spiderman etc) take place in the same universe. And in this story, both Wolverine and Sabretooth, back when they were "friends", occasionally joined up with the Howling Commandos for missions... Make of that as you will.
> 
> The song here is Carry Me In by Cage the Elephant, and is one of the b-sides, so it would never be heard on the radio. I'm not sure why I included it, other than the lyrics work beautifully for the story. It's where I got the title.  
> This was a long author's note, sorry. Thank you for reading and I hope to see you all next time.


	3. His First Choice

It wasn't long before it stopped raining, ending as suddenly as it began. Dark gray clouds still crowded in the sky. They were both still soaking. A car approached behind them, slowing the way Cara had.

"Was that your car back there?" The man driving asked.

"Yes," Cara said.

"We couldn't stay," Bucky said. He didn't He didn't want this man to know they had been attacked. Cara looked at him, and he shook his head.

"Do you two need a ride?" He asked. Cara nodded. Bucky frowned.

"Better than out here," she said, too quietly for the other man to hear, stepping closer to the car.

"I'll have to ask you two to ride in the back," he said. "You understand."

"Of course." She slipped in. Bucky thought for a moment. He didn't have to go. He didn't trust this man not to be working for someone. He'd get in another fight, and he could get hurt. He would win, he had doubts about that, but it would make running and hiding a lot harder.

Cara looked at him expectantly from the car.

If this man was looking for him, he would not hesitate to use an innocent woman to manipulate him. Hell, she had already gotten hurt, just because she had stopped to give him a ride, and been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Cara was, unfortunately, very much tangled up in his life right. She'd be in danger, and he owed it to her until she got to where she was going to keep her alive, and away from people like... Well, from people like him.

He slid in next to her. There were boxes in the far seat, so Cara was in the middle, and he was pressed rather close to her. She looked at him quickly, before glancing away.

"So, where are you two headed?"

"New York."

"That's ways away."

"If you could get us to someplace where I can call for a friend, that be great."

"Sure thing."

Cara smiled gratefully. They sped off. He tried not to notice how she sat, trying not to touch him, still holding her arm at an awkward angle. He tried not to notice how she was still shivering, even wrapped in his large coat. He tried not to notice that even soaking wet, hair and makeup messed up, that she was rather attractive.

He shook his head. He couldn't get distracted. He had make sure they both got out of this alive. He kept an eye on the driver, and around the car. Cara finally gave in, brushing against him. It was against the arm HYDRA had given him.

As soon as he thought the name, suddenly he was back, being suited up, for his last mission.

_Kill Captain America._

_He had remembered them telling him. Only knowing that to be true. Only knowing that._

_He didn't remember feeling afraid._

_He didn't remember feeling anything._

_He had felt numb, cold, dead._

_He really was the Winter Soldier._

Cara placed a hand on his arm, the first contact she had willingly made with him. He flinched at her touch.

"You're doing it again," she said quietly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

She shook her head. "You're a strange one, Bucky."

"You are have no idea," he said. She kept her hand where it was.

They fell silent for a few minutes, no one speaking. The longer they went, the more Cara seemed to grow comfortable around him, leaning into him slightly. He knew why. She was afraid, even if she didn't show it. She had every right to be. He'd get her out of this, and then she could go back to living her safe, boring, old life and forget she'd ever met him...

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that she never could. there would always be the possibility that someone would remember the woman who helped him, and that they would use her, hurt her, kill her. She didn't know how afraid she should be. She shouldn't have helped him. She wouldn't have, if she knew who he was, what he had done, and who would come after him.

She didn't know who he was, and he wanted to keep it that way. He wanted to keep the horror out of her eyes, the fear. She shifted slightly next to him. She wasn't shivering as much, at least.

"Are you sure  _you're_ okay?" He asked her suddenly. He didn't know why. She looked up at him, seemingly shaken from her own thoughts.

"I'm fine," she said.

"Your neck is scratched, and your arm..."

"I'm  _fine_ , Bucky."

He nodded, bringing his attention back to the man in front of him. He couldn't quite tell how old he was, his light hair pushed back, and his eyes lined in dark shadows. He looked like he hadn't slept for days. Bucky was confident that if it came down to a fight, he could win. He forced himself to relax slightly.

After about thirty minutes, they reached a ancient gas station, which had a payphone out front. Everything was cracked and covered in dust, dirty and unused. The man had given them some money, and left. Cara slipped inside to use the phone, while Bucky waited out front, arms crossed. He was fairly confident that no one here meant them any harm, although the young man at the counter was giving Cara a leering look. He glared at him, as Cara stepped out.

"My friend is coming by to pick us up. She's a little... Eccentric, but she's dependable."

He nodded. "Thank you."

"Where are you going after this?"

He hesitated before answering. "I don't really know," he admitted.

"Well, you can stay with me," she said. "Until you can find your own place."

He blinked in surprise. "Why are you being so kind? You have no reason to trust me."

"But I do," she said. For a brief moment, her face was open, and he could see grief, and misery, and worst of all, empathy. She understood something about him. She understood him. Then, he blinked, and it was gone, and her face was free from any and all emotions again. "For some reason I cannot fathom, I trust you, and I think that you need help."

He shrugged. "I guess I do."

"I have an extra room. You're welcome to use it for as long as you need, as long as you help me in upkeep."

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

And it was then he knew. They would never stop hunting him. And because Cara had helped him, they would never stop hunting her. If he didn't stay with her, she would be lost.

He had a new mission, and it was not an assignment, but his choice. His first choice in a very long time.

He was going to protect Cara Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse any grammatical errors. I donated blood today, and had a midterm, so I'm a little out of it, but thank you for reading!


	4. And That Was That

Together, they sat, backs against the wall, waiting for their ride.

It would take a while, and they sat in mostly silence. Cara didn't ask many questions, and for that he grateful. He didn't ask any either. The silence was not uncomfortable, and after a long while of not saying anything, Cara turned to him.

"Why are you going to New York, if you have no where to stay?"

He thought about his answer carefully. "I guess I just need to figure some things out."

"Like what?"

"Like who I am."

"Ah. So, like a path to self discovery?"

"You could say that."

"Well. I guess I need do the same. Maybe we'll find ourselves together." He stared at her. She smiled slightly, before glancing onto the street. "Oh. Here's our ride."

Cara's friend came barreling down the road, their sleek red car a model Bucky didn't recognize. They, whoever they were, slowed to a stop, jumping out.

It was a young woman, her light hair cut short, save for a few braids here and there. Her light blue eyes were very pale, like ice. She wore a black leather jacket, and tight black jeans, and black lace up boots, the only color on her was a dark blue shirt, and gold necklace around her throat. He could see black tattoos just under the collar, and under her sleeves. When he looked even closer, he saw that one arm was badly burnt, her left one. She ran over, grabbing Cara's arms. Cara winced, and she pulled back sharply.

"Cara! What the hell happened? I'll I get is cryptic call saying you were in a accident, and need help! Jesus! I thought you were dead or something."

"Hey, Sybil."

"Are you hurt? What's wrong with your arm? Where's your car? Who's he?" Sybil spoke very fast, the last question a nod in his direction.

"Right. This is my friend, Bucky. He's going to live with me."

Sybil stared at him, taking in his obviously ragged appearance. Her eyes almost seemed to dissect him, taking apart every aspect, every secret. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Okay," she said, shrugging. "Just as long as you aren't a murderer, or anything."

_Whoops_ , he thought drily.

She turned back to Cara. "Are you hurt? Your shirt is covered in blood."

"I screwed up my arm. The blood is just from a scratch," she glanced at Bucky as she said this, and he shrugged. "Some guy attacked us on the road."

"What?!"

"Yeah. Just a crazy."

"Hey now. I'm a crazy... You're not being followed or anything, right?"

"The rain took care of that," Bucky said, without humor. Sybil grinned.

"Well, we have nothing to worry about then."

"Get in, losers," she said. Cara rolled her eyes.

"You've been marathoning early 2000's movies again."

"Hell yeah," Sybil said, moving back to the driver's seat. "Last week was nineties. Week before eighties."

"Great."

"I know right?" Sybil sounded extremely pleased with herself. "We need to go shopping. You need new clothes. You both look awful. No offense. And I so do not want to go hunt through a car wreck for all your probably ruined clothes."

"Can you just get us home?" Cara sounded mildly exhausted.

"Fine. Shopping later."

"Good," she said. Bucky looked at the car again. He'd have to sit in back. Cara glanced at him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"We're still a few hours out."

"I know."

She smiled a ghost of a smile, and slid into the passenger side.

He got in behind her, turning out the window, and he overheard their conversation.

"Soooo, how did you two meet?

"At the Smithsonian."

"Are you a history nerd too?"

Cara looked back at him. He shrugged.

"I guess," he said.

She smirked. Sybil began to to talk quickly to Cara about a bunch of people he had never heard of, sohe allowed himself to disappear within his mind, which, as it turned out, probably wasn't the best idea.

He was suddenly back in another time, watching a man in another building, through the scope of a gun.

He didn't remember his face.

He didn't know him. He didn't know who he was. He didn't know why he had to die. He just knew that had to kill him.

It was raining.

He was tired.

He was cold.

His hair hung in damp strands in his face. It wasn't as long then, but it still got in the way.

He heard music.

Gentle, swaying music, coming from the party in the room below the man.

He had need to get away.

He had needed to breath.

And it was his undoing.

His finger tightened in the trigger, but there was a woman.

Her back was to him, and she was wrapping her arms around the man, hugging him, her long black hair loose, and dress white. It was a contrast. Black and white.

She wasn't supposed to be there.

And he pulled the trigger anyways.

The glass shattered.

The sound almost matched the music below.

They both fell to the ground. There was no black and white. Just red. Deep, running red.

He knew they were dead.

He knew they were dead because he was good at what he did, and they never survived.

And he didn't care.

He didn't care, until he was remembering it, now, in Sybil's car.

He killed them.

That woman wasn't supposed to die.

He killed her in cold blood.

He ended her life. He ended both their lives.

His breath began coming in sharp, quick succession. Every muscle was tense, hands were balled into fists.

He heard Cara's voice, speaking gently, quietly, in front of him.

It was a long time ago.

_He felt the cold wind on his face._

He couldn't lose control.

_He heard the glass shatter._

Not here.

_He saw them falling to the ground._

Later.

_He knew they were dead._

And then there was her voice.

He felt himself practically latch onto it, letting it drag him out of his memories.

He snapped out of it, heading back, suddenly aware of the conversation in front of him, forcing his fingers to uncurl.

"-With everything that's happening, I don't think I can work for him."

"So, we won't be working buddies?"

"It's co-workers, Sybil. And no, probably not."

"Aw. I was looking forward to it."

"I just... Need to get away."

Sybil glanced at her. "Why aren't you freaking out?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your car crashed. You said you were attacked. Most people would be freaking out."

"I'm not most people, Sybil."

"I know that. But you could react like a normal person for once."

"Why would I that?"

"You're insane, Cara."

Cara was silent for a moment, before she turned around suddenly, looking at him.

"You've been awfully quiet."

He opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say. He couldn't tell her about the memory.

"Just thinking," he murmured finally.

"We're going to be there soon."

"I thought we were ways away," he said.

"We were. Hours ago. Like I said, you've been quiet for a awhile."

"Oh."

Cara stared at him, obviously dying to ask something. She shook her head, deciding against it. She turned back up front.

And that was that.

* * *

Cara had told Sybil over the phone, when she knew Bucky wasn't listening, that she was going into hiding, needed help, and that under no circumstances from this point on, could Sybil discuss her relationship with Natasha, Clint, SHIELD, or the Avengers around her or anyone else. If anyone asked about her, she would deny knowing where she was.

Sybil was an excellent liar.

She could even be trick Natasha occasionally, although Sybil respected the spy too much.

Sybil had understood, and when she arrived, thankfully did not question why she was traveling with a mysterious man who had a habit of falling silent for hours at a time, and wore a glove on his left hand.

She knew Sybil was smart. Smart and observant, and that she would put two and two together, and eventually realize who he was.

Luckily, she probably wouldn't find all the information on the Winter Soldier. There would be plenty of other things for her friend to a snoop on. Because that's what her darling, dear, best friend was: A snoop.

Sybil was going to be the only person who knew where she was.

Her only connection to her old life.

"So, have you decided to take that job with Stark?"

"Hmm?"

"My boss, Tony Stark offered you a job. Before SHIELD got all fucked up."

"Oh. Right."

"Are you taking it?"

Cara shook her head slowly. "No. Probably not."

"You have nothing better."

"I just don't think it's a very good idea right now. I kinda need to lay low, and working for Stark wouldn't be very... Smart."

"No, I get it. He's egotistical. Reporters  _everywhere_ , all the time."

Cara nodded. "I just don't think, with everything that's happening, I don't think I can work for him."

"So, we won't be working buddies?"

She felt herself roll her eyes. "It's co-workers, Sybil. And no, probably not."

"Aw... I was looking forward to it."

"I just... Need to get away."

Sybil glanced at her, and she could feel herself being solved like a puzzle. "Why aren't you freaking out?" Her friend said after a few moments.

"What do you mean?"

"Your car crashed. You said you were attacked. Most people would be freaking out."

"I'm not most people, Sybil."

"I know that. But you could react like a normal person for once."

"Why would I do that?"

Sybil laughed slightly. "You're insane, Cara."

Cara thought about it. Yeah, she guessed she was. Insane. What sane person, who would already be in hiding, would go looking for the most dangerous and notorious killer in the world? Especially when that man would be hunted as well? She turned around to the as before mentioned assassin. He looked up at her. His eyes were tired, pained. He looked like he had just thought of something bad. He probably had.

"You've been awfully quiet."

He opened his mouth slightly, obviously wondering what to tell her.

"Just thinking," he said at last. He glanced away, not meeting her gaze.

"We're going to be there soon."

He blinked in surprise.

"I thought we were ways away," he said.

"We were. Hours ago. Like I said, you've been awfully quiet for a awhile."

"Oh."

Cara stared at him. What was he remembering? She saw the signs. He had had remembered something. Something that hurt him... A lot. Was he okay?

No. She knew the answer.

He was very far from it.

It would be a long time before he was okay again.

She knew that.

She turned back to the front.

And that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sybil is so fun to write, I love her. She's actually the main character in another story of mine, and is probvably my favorite one I've ever come up with, honestly.   
> Anyways, thank you for reading, and I hope I didn't disappoint.


	5. Mind Like Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, today is Bucky's birthday.   
> A chapter for you, Bucky.   
> Happy birthday, you beautiful little life ruiner.
> 
> And the new Mumford and Sons song "Believe" totally works as a sort of theme for this story, especially as it progresses. Just btw, in case you were maybe wondering.

Bucky soon learned to never get in a car with Cara's friend ever again.

She drove recklessly, swerving into other lanes, looking away from the road for long periods of time, shrieking at the other drivers.

Cara was completely unfazed, sitting perfectly still like there was no chance of dying a violent, fiery death. In fact, she was currently going through her friend's phone, not even looking up. Evidently, she was used to this. Bucky certainly was not.

He comforted himself with the fact that if they crashed, his enhanced genetics and his training would ensure that he'd probably live. Probably.

"WHY THE HELL ARE YOU DRIVING? HOW DID YOU PASS YOUR TEST? GO BACK TO DRIVERS ED, YOU BAG OF HORMONES, YOU LITTLE--"

"Sybil," Cara said absentmindedly. "Breath."

"Shh. It's how I cope."

"Cope with what?"

"Human stupidity."

"Sure. Right."

They were in the city, at least. A few blocks away from Cara's apartment.

"OH MY GOD, THEY ARE WALKING IN THE STREET. THE STREET, CARA, THE STREET! IF YOU GET HIT, I AM SO NOT FEELING SORRY FOR YOU, YOU BRAIN-DEAD MORONS."

Which was a good thing. He didn't know how much longer he could last. Cara glanced back at him, shrugging sympathetically, as she put Sybil's phone down.

"THANK GOD, WE'RE HERE."

You could say that again.

Cara climbed out, and he followed her. Sybil looked at them both, although she looked much more critically at him.

"Need anything else?"

"Nope."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"I'll be here."

"I know."

"Right. Bye, Cara. Bucky," she added his name on like a second thought as she looked coolly at him. He nearly shivered under her gaze. Nearly. He was used to the cold.

Cara waved to her, as Sybil drove off, nearly killing a couple crossing the street, and leaving the two of them alone. Bucky glanced up at the building. It didn't look too expensive, but from what he could tell, was in a nice part of town. He wasn't really sure what was considered nice anymore.

As for the danger, it was surrounded by other tall of buildings of equal height. Depending on what floor they were on, a sniper could get a good shot at them. He'd have to make sure that everyone living in the building were safe to be around. But it seemed okay. As a temporary place to stay.

Cara was watching him, like she was trying to read his mind. Carefully, she tilted her head, and together they walked through the front doors.

* * *

Cara opened the door to the apartment, which lead to a narrow hallway. He followed, seeing that it lead into a small kitchen with a table, and what looked like a living room, complete with a couch and television. It took a sharp right into another hall, where Cara was turning. At the end was a closed door, and there was one, closer, hanging slightly ajar. Cara pushed her way into nearest one, and he followed her.

"Here you are," she said, standing back. He looked at it. It was empty, save a bed pushed against the wall, a window in the corner, and desk to the side. Someone had obviously just moved out of it. One box was in the corner, and he could see the marks on the walls where pictures had hung before.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

She stepped away. "I'll be down the hall if you need anything."

He nodded, standing in the middle of the room. He felt her eyes trained on him, and looked up to meet them. Her gaze was dark, like she was trying to figure something out. As soon as she caught him looking at her, the expression was gone, replaced quickly with the carefully constructed blank calm. She gave him a small smile, before disappearing into the shadows, like a ghost.

He stood there, unsure of what to do next. He hadn't exactly thought this far. into the future. He knew his job was to keep an eye on Cara, make sure no one hurt her to get to him. That was his first mission, his first self-assigned mission. She had helped him. She didn't have to, but she did. And he would not let her pay for that mistake.

His second mission... Well, his second mission was going to be figuring out who the hell he was. He was Bucky Barnes, best friend of Steve Rogers, who grew up in Brooklyn, and joined the army, not knowing what he was getting himself into. But he was the Winter Soldier, the Asset, notorious, cold assassin with a metal arm, with so much blood on his hands, he'd never be able to wash it all off. He was a ghost story. He didn't know much beyond that.

He sat down on the bed. It had been awhile since he had slept on one. He didn't know if ever had, while he was with HYDRA.

He shut his eyes.

The name triggered a flash of pain that ranged from his fingertips in his left arm to the base of his spine. He wasn't sure if he imagined it or not.

It triggered fragments of memory that cut his mind like glass. Falling to the ground, lying there for hours or days, he wasn't sure. But he was alone. Alone with the snow falling from the sky. Until they came and dragged him away.

He stood up quickly, moving the window. To survive this, second chance or new life or whatever, he could not focus on the past. He had to do what he did best. And that was think like a killer.

* * *

After changing out of bloodstained, rain-soaked clothes, she felt much better. Thank god her contacts had thought of everything. She had given them a cover story, and an address, and they had put together an apartment that looked like she had lived in it for months. There were pictures on the walls, and food in the kitchen, and even a TV with over a hundred channels. She had checked in on them on Sybil's phone, back in the car leaving the number blocked.  

Cara knocked on his door, leaning in. He stood by the window, arms crossed. He spun around at the sound. He still hadn't taken off all his layers, his arm carefully hidden from view. God, he'd needed new clothes too. He had only had the one bag, and that had been left in the wreck.

"Do mind if I run out?" She asked. He shrugged.

"No. I'll just be here."

"I'll be back soon."

He looked at her seriously. "Be careful. If anything happens, you find me."

She blinked. "Okay."

"I mean it. If anything happens. _Find me_."

"What would happen?"

He shrugged again. "A lot of things."

"Fine. Okay. I'll find you."

He nodded, turning back to the window.

"Bye," she said. He didn't respond, keeping his gaze frozen on the glass. She sighed quietly, and left without another word.

* * *

Cara came home, bags hanging off her good arm. Her other one would be messed up for a while, as she was pretty sure she had twisted in the crash. The memory was still a bit fuzzy, (she was pretty she had landed on it when the car rolled) but she knew she was lucky to have not broken it. Walking into the kitchen, she was surprised to see Bucky sitting at the table. She placed one in front of him, keeping the one with her replacement documents in her hand.

"What's this?" Bucky asked, looking at the bag in front him.

"I picked up some clothes for you," she said. "Just the basics. You can go out later and get more."

He took it, looking at it closely, before looking up at her. "You didn't have to do this," he said quietly.

"You lost all of it in the wreck, and I was the one who was driving, so," she said. She looked at him apologetically. "I hope nothing was important in there."

"No. Not really. And it wasn't your fault."

She shrugged, before she glanced at her watch. "Hey, what do you want for dinner?" He stared at her. "I'd try to make something, but it's late, and I can't actually cook, so..."

"Whatever you want," he said. She rolled her eyes.

"You need to have some input," she said. "You're living here too now."

He shrugged. "Whatever you want," he repeated

"You're impossible," she sighed. "Fine. If you hate it, you don't get to complain."

"I wouldn't."

She glared at him good-naturedly. "Fine. Pizza, then," she said. He nodded, not speaking. She sighed again, taking her phone out, and placing the order. It came quickly, and they ate in complete silence. She took the time to subtlety observe him. He didn't make eye contact with her, keeping his eyes on the door. She knew that if she tried to move near him, he would know, though, and likely jump to action, from the tense way he sat. He looked slightly different from the pictures in the museum, the longer hair, the dark shadows under his eyes. He looked tired, and not confused, but... unsure. He looked at her sharply, and she glanced away. After minutes more of the dead silence, she finally decided to break it, as she leaned back, crossing her arms.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

"Never really was a problem before."

"We're just going to fix that, aren't we?"

He gave her the first smile she had seen, although it was small and humorless. "You can try."

"I'm going to succeed. I'll get you to talk to me."

He shook his head. "I don't have much to say."

"I think that's a lie," she said. "You have a lot to say. You just aren't used to being able to say it."

She glanced at him, extending a hand and touching his arm. He flinched. "I'm gonna go to bed."

"Okay."

She stood up, walking passed him, her fingers trailing over his back as she walked away, disappearing into the hall

"Night," her voice echoed back to him.

"Night," he said in return, not moving from his seat.

* * *

Cara sat on her bed, leaning against the headboard, eyes shut. While she was certainly not any Natasha, she knew how to keep herself safe. had done security checks around the perimeter. Nothing was unusual. No sign they had been followed. No sign that they were being watched. No sign of any trouble. She knew Bucky would be watching too, and he seemed mildly at ease. 

So far, they were safe.

Well, as safe as they could be. As safe as _she_ could be. She sighed. Some part of her still wondered what she was thinking.

What had she done?

He hadn't done anything to suggest that he was a deranged assassin. But she had seen his near breakdowns. What they did to him, it messed him up. He was messed up. Worse than she was, and she was the poster child for having a bad history.

She sighed, bringing her knees to her chest.

The thoughts about the Natasha, and her history, brought her back.

_It must have been, what, six years ago now? Just after a mission gone south. Very south, as Cara had had her cover blown, gotten into a fight, a bad one, had to be rescued, which cost the life of a good agent. A friend of hers._

_She stared out the window of the small office, as the door opened._

_A young woman, not much older than herself walked in. She had long red hair, cool green eyes, and an attitude that expressed that she could probably kill her without batting an eye. Oddly, they looked vaguely similar._

_"Hello, Cara Fletcher," she said. "My name is Natasha Romanoff, and I'll be overseeing your training."_

_"Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow, huh? I heard you were with us now."_

_"I had a change of heart."_

_"So. You here to babysit me?"_

_"Train you."_

_"I don't need training."_

_"An agent died because you lack the basic skills needed in this world."_

_Cara flinched._

_"You're not a fighter," Natasha continued, ignoring her. "Your specialty is to be the smartest and look pretty. Which I'll admit, you're good at. Very good. But you're not a fighter, and I'm here to fix that."_

_Cara glared at her._

_"I'm fine. I've been surrounded by S.H.I.E.L.D. practically my entire life. I know what I'm doing."_

_"No, you've been protected your entire life. I'm here to break that comfort zone."_

_"Why?"_

_"Cause that's what they tell me to do."_

_Cara turned her glare to the ground, crossing her arms. The corner of Natasha's mouth twitched._

_"So, are we ready to begin?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a little bit of a filler chapter here. But, hey, little, tiny bit of Cara back story, and bonding and stuff...   
> Also, I've been to New York like twice, so I have no idea how accurate any of this is. I honestly don't know how daily life is there, I'm sorry if it's bad.
> 
> Thank you again for reading, it really means a lot to me!


	6. Soldier, Insomniac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A "fun" song for this chapter is Wires by the Neighbourhood. I just heard it in a Stiles/Nogitsune video, and it immediately reminded me of Bucky. Oh, the things you can find when you watch your favorite characters go insane.

Soon after rescuing Steve Rogers from drowning, Bucky's memories started coming back. Well, some of them, anyways. He couldn't remember anything before Zola began the experiments on him, save for a few flashes here and there that told him he was not born in that room, that he was not born repeating a stranger's name. That he had had a life before, a life that was stolen from him.

He could barely remember the rest of the war. It was a blur of gunshots, and bombs exploding, of forests, a shield, one he would later pick up, twice. Of a blonde man, who he knew to be Steve Rogers, being a hero, and saving people. There were others too, not as clear. His trip to the museum had given him names but, that was all he had. And then there was him... And he wasn't a hero. He was a shadow of what he would become.

His missions, with Hydra, were usually the sharpest, clearest. The horrible things that were done to him, and more importantly, the horrible things he did. Those were the ones that haunted him most clearly.

And then there was the fall.

There was always him falling.

That constant, mind numbing fear of the drop.

During the day, he could fake it. Being fine, being okay, keeping memories pushed as far away from his consciousness as he could.

But the moment night fell, he was falling with it.

He went to bed right after Cara did. He kept waking up, in his new bed, sure that that scream was real, or that that a ghost he had killed really was standing above him.

Before, right after he had stolen the clothes and hid in an abandoned warehouse, he had forced himself to sleep. People would be right on his trail, and he'd be no use sleep deprived. Frankly, he had been so exhausted, it had been easy those first few days.

As time went on, however, sleep became a harder thing to manage. It was when he had no control. It was when he was the most vulnerable. It was when he remembered.

Finally, after three hours of restless, war torn, bloody and painful sleep, (if you could call it that) he got up, leaving his room, to find Cara sitting up at the kitchen table, head in her arms. He sat down across from her. Her head snapped up. Her eyes were bright and red. If she hadn't been crying, she had been close, thinking of something painful.

"Bucky," she said. She checked the clock on the wall. "It's really early. Can't sleep?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yup."

"What's your problem?" He asked, wincing slightly as he heard how it sounded.

She shrugged slightly, not taking it badly.

"Sleeping is for losers," she said, with a yawn.

"I can see that," he said. She smiled. He tried to return it, but a fragment of a memory, the image of him beating in the face of killed it. She met his gaze.

"So, since neither of us are going back to sleep," she said. "What do you want to eat?"

He shrugged. "Not this again."

"If by this, you mean eating food, then yes, we are doing this again."

He stared at her, completely silent. She sighed dramatically, leaning back in her chair, and tilting her head. It was dangerous, exposing her neck like that. If she was a target, than he would be able to slip up behind her and slit her throat before she knew what hit her. The fact she had a some trust in him would make it that much easier. And the fact that had analysed how best to kill her, simply out of habit, made him feel slightly sick. Her hair fell from around her shoulders as she stretched, the deep red standing out in the dim light. He looked away from her, at the wall, watching her sit back up in the corner of his eye.

"Fine. You get your own. It's not my job to mother you," she said. "Food's in the cabinets. Eat whatever you want. I'll be back."

She got up, leaving him alone again. He continued staring at the wall, listening to her close the door to her room, and after a few minutes, he heard the pipes creek, letting him know she was taking a shower.

He sighed, not moving. He wasn't hungry, so he'd tell her he's eaten. She had said she hadn't wanted to mother him, but he had a feeling she would, he thought with a small smirk.

He rested his head in his hand, keeping his eyes frozen on the table. His other hand, the metal one, followed along the lines on the woods. The repetitive, simple motion had a strangely calmly effect.

His heart, which he hadn't realized had been beating very fast since he had gotten up, began to slow. He breathed deeply, shutting his eyes.

How was he going to keep doing this?

Could he even?

Maybe the old Bucky could, or maybe the Winter Soldier could. But he was neither. He was nothing. He had no orders, no past, nothing but a self-assigned mission he wasn't even sure he could carry out. How could he protect someone else if he wasn't even sure what was happening in his own head?

A hand on his shoulder made him jump. He jumped, lashing out, catching their wrist. He blinked. Cara stared back at him, her expression even, if a little pained. Her hair was wet, hanging in her face. His hand tightened slightly. He couldn't feel her pulse, even though his finger were just over ... It was his metal one. Well, shit. He had forgotten to cover it up. He had no idea how to even begin explaining it to her, if she asked.

"Bucky?" She said cautiously. He nodded, releasing her, and turning back to the table. She sat down next to him. "Bucky... I don't know you very well. But you're not okay. Even I can tell that."

"Just trying to figure some things out."

"You can tell me about it."

"No. No, I really can't."

She bit her lip, and nodded. "If you ever change your mind..."

"I'll let you know."

"Promise?"

He turned so that he faced her, and she faced him. Their eyes met.

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" He asked.

She sighed. "I don't know. I honestly don't. But I can hope."

He dropped his gaze, and it landed on her wrist. There was a red imprint from where he had grabbed. It was already much more swollen than her other one.

"That was your hurt arm," he said suddenly. His eyes widened as he realized why she had been in pain when he had grabbed her out of pure instinct. "The one you sprained in the crash."

She opened her mouth to speak, but he was already at the door, chair knocked to the floor with a crash. "Bucky, no, wait-"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pausing in the door, one hand braced on the frame. She stood behind him. "I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't-"

"Why didn't you stop me?"

"I don't-"

"I'm sorry," he repeated, cutting her off again. He could feel her gaze on his back. His hand tightened into a fist, and with that he disappeared back into his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Bucky. I just want to give him a hug sometimes.
> 
> I've done all sorts of reading on PTSD to try and portray it right, so I hope I did a good job there. Thank you all reading, it means a ton to me. I hope you're enjoying this so far. I certainly am. See you all next time!


	7. What Spies Do Best

Cara leaned in the door of her room.

She hadn't thought this through.

Well, she had on her part. She had planned out every detail of her past, present, and future. She had a job that she would start tomorrow. A good one, at a bookstore. She had never really had had time to read for pleasure before, and she'd really like the chance to try it. She had a place to stay, she had money.  _She_ was fine.

No, it was the man who she recklessly decided to protect that she was worried about. Not only was she going to have to keep him away from himself. She flexed her wrist. It was discolored, bigger than the other. It wasn't broken, luckily, but it was enough to keep her out of the game for a bit. That could prove disastrous. It already bad, before she had scared him. He could have broken it. He had held it at an angle that if he hadn't realized who she was, he would have snapped it. She really need to learn if it had weakness. Natasha would have known, or Clint. What would they do? Probably make sarcastic comments about how she should think for herself, and how she go practice shooting again.

He did feel bad for what he did, that hadn't been a lie. She knew when people were lying. He hadn't wanted to hurt her. But, he had... She could only imagine what would happen if she scared him more. Like reveal that she had, at one point, work for the organization he had taken down.

She had taken in a ticking time bomb. That, in of herself didn't bother her. She had lived among time bombs her entire life. Hell, she could be considered one, hence the intense therapy sessions Fury had forced her to attend during her first ten years she spent at SHIELD. The majority of her childhood. And then there were the occasional ones here and there... Just to make sure she hadn't lost it yet. She felt like they would be pretty sure she had, indeed, "lost it", whatever it was, if they saw her now.

But Bucky... He was the main problem here. If he ever managed to figure out who she was, well, it wouldn't be pretty.

Another thing she hadn't thought of. She had to get him to trust her. Someone has to trust you to let you protect them. (Fury had had had her run protection missions before. She was good at them, although not as good as getting information.)

Most of the time, it was easy. Figure out what kind of person they needed, and become that. Figure them out, and play along. A subtle nod here, a touch on the arm there. Maybe some shared history, better with a grain of truth. With spies, it was harder. They kept their real selves so buried, she had to work to uncover them. And their pasts were often so messed up... whatever got you in the game was usually not the best. Take Clint. Take Natasha. Kinda hard to emphasize with them, and people like them, when she was supposed to be a normal civilian.

The thing was, with Bucky, the only way he was ever going to trust her (and it was going to take a while), was if he knew absolutely nothing about her. She couldn't use her usual way of doing things. There could not be any blatant similarities in their past. But she could play this game.

Allison Cara Fox was just a mysterious woman with a bit of a bad past that kept her up at night. And she could work with it.

So that was step one. Find common ground, one she could talk about. They didn't exactly have a lot to say to each other yet. He was closed off, trying to sort out his own head. She had get him to open up to her... And that meant mining every single emotion she could.

She smiled.

This was going to be interesting.

* * *

Cara knocked on the door of his room. There was no answer. She really didn't expect one.

"Bucky?" She said. Only silence answered her. "Bucky. Say something."

Nothing.

"Hey. I know you're upset about earlier. But that wasn't your fault. I scared you."

Nothing.

This wasn't right. She opened the window was open, curtains rustling. Running over, she looked out. There was no sign of him, anywhere. Bracing her hands on the window frame, she stared out into the street.

Great.

Along with the fact that he had who knows what on his trail, she was guessing that Hydra didn't let him out for field trips. She didn't doubt his capability to handle the modern world, but it was hard to keep yourself safe in unfamiliar circumstances.

Now, think.

Where would he be?

Where would a man who had nothing left go?

She paused.

Where would a ghost story go?

Where do ghosts belong?

* * *

Bucky placed his hands on the wooden frame of the window, quickly lifting it open. Slipping through, he dropped to the fire escape, scrambling down to the street below, all the while completely silent. He stayed not quite hidden, but more... Unnoticeable, as he walked through the nearly empty streets. The sun was just beginning to rise.

Being in that empty room, it felt like it was suffocating him.

He had just... Had to escape.

He wasn't sure where he was going. As he wandered through the streets. he kept his mind empty. His footsteps were silent as he walked forward, out of habit. Slowly, he stopped in front of a gate. Looking in, he saw rows of dark stones. He shook his head, backing up.

He had no idea how he had ended up here.

He had no idea if this was just some random graveyard, or if it meant something to him. To Bucky. To the Winter Soldier.

He didn't care. He had enough ghosts without intentionally unearthing more. This was not a string he wanted to pull on.

He walked quickly in the other direction, wandering back through the streets, trying to backtrack. Somewhere in his head, he had kept track of how he had gotten here. Another helpful habit. He was about halfway back when he saw her. Slipping back into shadows, he carefully watched her.

She looked lost, her red hair stood out in the early morning sun as she glanced around, obviously looking for him. She shivered, pulling her jacket tighter around her. It was cold, wasn't it? He hadn't noticed. Probably the result of being frozen so many times. He never really noticed. She kicked a rock into the street. He watched her glance up slightly, obviously lost in thought, not looking behind her as she stepped into the street, not seeing the car speed at her.

His throat tightened, and any thought of trying to keep himself hidden left his mind as he rushed forward. His metal arm wrapped around her as he pulled her back.

She spun around, her green eyes meeting his, hands catching his arms, and he felt an irrational surge of anger. Making his job harder. He glanced back into the street, wondering why the hell he thought this was ever a good idea.

* * *

Cara saw him. She pretended not to, as he was practically melded into the shadows. Any untrained eye would not have spotted him. He was watching her, leaning against the wall, expressionless. She glanced around, making a show of looking for him, and crossing her arms against the cold as she walked down the street. That had provided an emotional reaction once, when he had given her his coat. Maybe, seeing her out here, suffering for him, would invoke the same response. She bowed her head, wrapping the jacket tighter around her.

He didn't move.

She sighed, allowing herself to express her frustration by kicking a rock, watching as it flew into the empty road, into the dull beam of distant headlights. She pretended not to see them, as they gave her an incredibly stupid idea.

Either a very good stupid idea, or a very bad, very reckless, probably going-to-kill-her one. She took a deep breath, waiting a few more seconds, pretending to be lost in thought. As the lights became brighter, she stepped into the street, pausing as they hit her face. The tires screeched.

Suddenly, she was yanked back sharply, onto the sidewalk, a metal arm wrapped around her waist. She spun around against him, catching his arms to keep herself steady, breathing heavily as she looked at the place where she had just been standing, the car rushing by. She couldn't believe that actually worked. She took a deep breath, looking up to see Bucky glaring down at her. He held her very tightly, and she unsure if he meant to or not.

"How often do you almost die?" He said irritably. Honestly, it had to be the longest sentence he had said to her.

"I was looking for you!" She snapped. "You ran off and I was worried."

He let her go, muttering something under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Come on," he said, walking quickly forward. Cara followed him, speeding up until she was by his side. He barely acknowledged her presence.

Silence seemed to stretched on forever. Cara sighed loudly.

"What?"

"This is killing me."

"What is?"

"The silence."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Say something. Ask something. Don't make me be the rude one."

"Fine. Why were you awake this morning?" Bucky said, glancing down at her as they walked side by side. She looked thoughtfully ahead, carefully keeping her face neutral. In fact, she locked it down completely. He picked up on it. "You don't have to an-"

"Two years ago today was someone's funeral," she said quietly. "Someone very close to me."

He looked forward again. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she said. "It wasn't your fault. It was psychopath's fault. And now he's gone. And justice is served."

"He's dead?"

"Or some jail. Not sure."

"Aren't you curious?"

She looked up at him. "What's the point?" She said, unable to keep the apathy from her voice. "I never want to spend another moment thinking about his pathetic life. I wasted too much time already."

"Who was he? The man who killed him."

Cara sighed, wondering how much to reveal. All she had said so far had been mostly true. Mostly. Why not keep it up? As long as there were no specifics. "You know the attack last year? The one on New York?"

Bucky nodded. He had probably read about it at the museum.

"I blame the one who started it. Loki."

She didn't leave out any of her loathing for him. She hated him. She hated him for killing Coulson, and causing countless other innocent lives to be lost. She hated him for manipulating Clint, threatening Natasha. Those were her friends. And if she had been there, she could have helped. But no.

"It could have been me," she said aloud. She was just talking now. She didn't mean to tell him any of this. She wasn't even sure if he was listening anymore. "I was gone on work. If I had been there, it could have been different. I could have saved him."

She stopped, feeling her heart begin to race again. This was a mistake. Talking about this left her too open. Too vulnerable. Already, she was having trouble controlling her emotions.  _Get it together, Fox. You're not going to be of any use to anyone if you end up having a breakdown_.

She shut her eyes, breathing deeply. She covered her mouth, with both hands.

_Agent Fletcher, we thought it best you know, given your relationship with the deceased-_

"Cara," Bucky said, breaking through her thoughts. She looked up at him. He stood in front of her, watching her intently, with an expression that almost bordered on concern. "You okay?"

She blinked, running her hands through her hair. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

Just like that, she was. Or at least, she could tell herself that, even if it was a lie.

He tilted his head, not looking convinced while he turned back, beginning to walk back. She joined him again, keeping her coat pulled around her. Her arm hurt. Maybe not getting sleep was a bad idea today. It had left her more open to... This.  _  
_

But, despite it all, she knew that it was beneficial. She had revealed something very deep and personal, something that couldn't be replicated. Something about her that wasn't an illusion. She was one step closer to her goal of having him trust her.

Now, she just had to do what spies do best, and lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was pretty fun to write, as we got to see a bit more how Cara's mind works. She doesn't think like this all the time, but to her, this is a mission she has to carry out, and so she's kinda put on her spy mindset. This feels a little depressing right now,but hopefully, the next few chapters will get lighter. And I've reread/rewritten this about thirty times, and I'm still not sure it's my best.
> 
> Sidenote, I don't hate Loki. Cara does. Just so we're clear. I know that people can get very protective over some characters. Loki's chill (haha, puns)


	8. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay. It's been a month since I updated. Awkward. Which is really sad because I have this written up to chapter 18. Huh. Sorry about that.  
> Also, this isn't going to happen for a while, but I'm changing the rating on this to Mature for reasons, and since I have it on several other websites, I'm thinking of it as the uncensored version, mostly language and stuff. I'll give warnings and stuff. Yeah. Sorry again.

It was about seven in the morning when the two of them got back from his little early morning excursion. Cara didn't say anything else, keeping her gaze away from him, and on the floor. She seemed to shut herself down after her breakdown. He didn't blame her. He could relate, and she could keep her secrets.

Her hand was steady as she unlocked the door. The keys glinted in the dim light of the hall, as she pushed open the door, pausing to look at him.

"I'm not usually like that," she said. "Today's just a... It's just a hard day."

He didn't know what to say, opening his mouth slightly. "I understand," he said finally, settling for the most diplomatic answer, even if it was a blatant lie.

She nodded. Something flashed over her face, but he wasn't quite sure what it was, and she was already turning into the apartment.

As he followed her into the narrow hallway, her red hair loose and swinging down her back, he watched her carefully. She had a story. He was curious. He didn't know if it was the Winter Soldier who wanted answers, or James Buchanan Barnes, or a mix of both. Whatever he was now, he was curious. And yet he knew he wasn't going to get any resolution. She didn't strike him as the type to give away her secrets easily. This morning had been a something he wasn't sure he was supposed to see.

She paused in the kitchen, eyeing the cabinets. She glanced down at the keys in her hand, a thoughtful expression coming over her face.

"We should go shopping," she said. He stared at her. "Don't give me that look."

"What look?"

"That one. We need to get more food. And I still need to replace some things from the wreck. And get you your own key."

"Why do I have to come?"

"I want to know more about you."

_No, you really don't_ , he thought.

Instead, he said, "There's not much to know about me."

She raised her eyebrows. "You are a liar."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"There is a lot to know about you. You are a mystery."

"So are you."

"Well, then," she said. "It's decided. We're both going." She moved past him, to her room. "I'll meet you out here in an hour. Get ready."

He didn't say anything, didn't move, just stood, perfectly still in the middle of the hallway. She turned back, gesturing impatiently at his room.

"Go," she mouthed, before walking into her own room. He sighed, stalking into his room. He paused. He was going to go out into public. Maybe he should clean himself up a little. He was covered in dirt, and dried blood that he kept forgetting about. His last shower had been at a homeless shelter in DC, right before he had decided to come to New York.

He slipped back out into the hall, turning into the bathroom, giving her door a glance.

After he had cleaned himself up, he had found his coat and gloves. They weren't for her 'd seen his arm, and hadn't seemed bothered by it (which, in hindsight, did seem strange.. He'd look into later. Observing Fox while they were out would possibly provide more information). But for now, he'd wear them as not to give anyone any more clues that could identify him as the Winter Soldier, the mysterious masked man with a metal arm who had shot up DC.

He was a murderer on the run. Some people wanted him in jail, and some wanted him to become an asset for them. Just stepping out was going to be risky. But he knew risky. He had carried out operations the bravest wouldn't dare touch, not that he had much of a say in the matter. There were not many who could take him on and live to tell the tale, that he was confident about. It was a calculated risk, and he was willing to take it. The worst that would happen would be having to go on the run again. He knew that was going to happen anyways, eventually.

It was a big city, and one more face wouldn't be noticed, as long as he was careful. He looked in the mirror. It was the first time he had looked at himself, since that picture in the Smithsonian. He didn't look much like that anymore, he thought somewhat bitterly. He was a different person, and he still had no idea who that person actually was. His reached up his metal hand towards the reflection, suddenly struck by how similar this felt, to something else. But he didn't remember what. He didn't want to remember. Somethings were best left buried.

* * *

A song echoed through the store, playing lightly on the speakers from the stereo. He wasn't paying attention, dragging a basket with him as he followed Cara around.

_Well you can hide a lot about yourself,_

_But honey, what're you gonna do?_

_And you can sleep in a coffin,_

_But the past ain't through with you._

Cara turned back to him. "I'm getting your key, I'll be right back. You can get whatever you need. I'll meet you at the register." He nodded, keeping his gaze away from the security camera to his left. She walked off, in the direction of the hardware center, leaving him on his own. He looked around. The store was empty, not many people being up and about this early on a weekend. Something caught his eye. On a rack was a magazine, and on the cover was Steve Rogers.

_'Cause we are all a bunch of liars._

_Tell me, baby, who do you wanna be?_

_And we are all about to sell it,_

_'Cause it's tragic with a capital T._

_Let it be, Let it be, Let it be!_

The cover read,  _Captain America: Heroics, or Havoc?_ Bucky felt a sharp jolt of anger at the title. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a voice was screaming that all Steve had ever wanted to do was help people, that he didn't care about being a hero. Steve was the man that everyone should try to be like. He didn't know how he knew this. He just did. It had started out like a ghost of a feeling when he had saved him, and had grown stronger with every day.

_'Cause we all wanna party when the funeral ends._

_And we all get together when we bury our friends._

_It's been eight bitter years since I've been seeing your face._

_And you're walking away, and I will die in this place._

It was his fault Rogers was getting this. He had caused the havoc, and Steve was getting the blame. The magazine in his hand crumpled as he tightened his grip.

"Bucky," Cara said. He turned sharply to see her standing by his side. She looked at the magazine in his gloved hand. Carefully, she reached over, putting her hand on top of his, loosening his fingers. He let her do it. As she put it back on the shelf. Turning back to him, she placed a small metallic object in his hand. A key. She looked up at him, keeping her hands around his. "Are you ready to go?"

He nodded mutely.

She let him go, and some part of him missed the feeling of her holding him. It had made him feel less alone. She grabbed the basket, pushing it to the register. He followed her. As Cara unloaded the cart, he saw Rogers' face staring back at him again, with the same caption. He reached forward suddenly, turning the magazine around, unable to take the accusing stare, or the stupid words any longer. Cara gave him a strange look.

"You're being weird," Cara said, hitting his arm lightly, as she finished taking items out, and placing them in the checkout, paying for it easily.

"You're being weird," he grumbled. He couldn't resist the juvenile response, as he glared at her.

The cashier looked between them. "You two make such a cute couple," she said.

Cara looked up in surprise, as Bucky glanced away uncomfortably.

"Oh, no, we're not together," she said, gesturing between them. She looked at him. "We're just... Friends?"

"Yeah, friends," he said quickly. The cashier gave him a sympathetic look. He shot Cara a confused one. Why the sympathy? Cara tilted her head towards the door, indicating she'd explain it later.

"My mistake," the cashier said, handing him their receipt. He handed it to Cara, who stuck it in one of their two shopping bags. He took it from her. It would be more efficient for him to carry it. She smiled at him, nodding in thanks. "Have a nice day!"

"You too," Cara said pleasantly, walking quickly away. As he followed, he could feel the woman's eyes on them, like she didn't quite believe him.

"Why did she give me that look?" Bucky said, as soon as they were outside. "She looked like she felt sorry for me."

"She probably thought I was friend zoning you, or something" Cara said, laughing slightly.

"What does that mean?" He said.

"It means I just completely killed any hopes of us ever having a romantic relationship. And she felt bad for you."

"Why? What's wrong with being friends?" Cara looked at him. He felt genuinely seemed baffled. She shrugged.

"Good question, and I don't know the answer," she said. He shook his head, falling silent. "Where to next?"

Now it was his turn to shrug.

"We can get stuff for dinner tonight?"

He nodded.

"Right. This way."

* * *

Bucky was pushing the cart, as they walked through the small grocery store, leaning on the handle, while Cara walked in front of him, occasionally pulled something off the shelf and tossed it in. She glance back at him.

"Is there anything you want?"

He shook his head. She rolled her eyes, turning back to the front, although she kept her hand firmly on the front of the cart.

She paused, glancing passed him. "There a someone watching us," she said, nodding behind him, "Do you know them?" He resist the urge to freeze where he stood, instead glancing casually behind him. A man, stereotypical in what he thought most agents looked like, black suit, nondescript face. He was clearly an amateur though, staring right at them, not attempting to hide that he was observing them. Even Cara, with no experience, had seen it.

Bucky looked at Cara. She was nearly expressionless, as was usual, glancing between him and the man. He released the basket, stepping away, as if to distance himself from her.

"I'll be right back," he said quietly. "Stay here." She looked slightly anxious, as she took in his serious expression.

"Alright," she said. He turned back to the man, walking over confidently, who made no movement, to hide, or run, or fight. He just stood there. watching.

Bucky stared at him, feeling every bit of training come back. He felt himself stand taller, and straighter.

"Why are you looking at us?" He said. He felt himself slipping slightly into another accent, another voice. A hint of a Russian one. The man looked at him, tilting his head. The sunglasses kept him from being able to make out his face. The only clue was the slight movements he made.

"Do you know the story of the Firebird? It's Russian, though I don't suppose they ever let you read those."

"Who are you?"

"Well, in a rare retelling every night, a golden apple would be stolen to from a garden. And the king wanted to find out who it was who was stealing it. His son saw the bird, and told the king of it's beauty. The king was transfixed, and he sent his son, out into the world, and the prince found a Wolf. The Wolf, being a creature of winter, did not like the warmth, and lead him right to her."

His head tilted indicating he was glancing behind him.

"Her hair is quite the shade of red. Like flames, don't you think?"

Bucky shifted. "What do you want?"

"Oh, Winter Soldier. Is that how they taught you to get information? By simply asking and assuming I'll answer truthfully? Maybe you aren't as good as I thought."

"Retrieving information was never what I was best at. I will give you one more chance. Who are you, and what do you want with me?"

The man looked at him, face unreadable.

"Who says we are here for you, Soldier?"

Bucky fist tightened.

"Keep an close eye on your friend. She is not all that she seems, and if you don't, you might just... Well, you might just lose her."

The lights went out, plunging the small windowless store into darkness. The fire alarm began to flash, illuminating everything in brief sparks of light. Bucky swore, as he spun around, the words about Cara ringing in his ears, although he was hesitant to turn his back on the man, even for a moment. This all seemed to planned, too careful.

There was no one by the cart.

Cara was gone.

"Fox!" He yelled, spinning around to demand the man tell him where she was. But there either. It was like the man had turned to smoke. He was alone in the aisle. Walking quickly forward, he looked around. There was no one in the store at all. His heart began to beat faster.

"Fox, where the fuck are you!"

"Bucky?" Her voice echoed.

"Cara!"

She was standing in the back, alone as well. He walked quickly to her side.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah... Just thought I saw something."

"I told you to stay there."

"I  _thought_ I saw  _something_."

"What?"

"I don't know. Something."

"Cara, tell me what you saw."

"I don't know. I'm not sure."

He sighed, glancing store was empty. "We need to go. We need to go now."

"Alright," she said. He grabbed her arm, almost dragging her towards the exit, so that they wouldn't be separated from each other, if anything happened. As they stepped out into the sun, he glanced around, pulling his hat down, blocking his face. He walked quickly. They were a few blocks away from the apartment.

If he could get them there, he could figure this all out.

After a few minutes, Cara began asking questions

"Bucky, what's happening?"

"I just have a bad feeling about something.

"Bucky, I want answers."

"Please trust me, Cara. Please," he said, No one was following them. There was no sign of anything usual. The double doors of the apartment were only a few feet away. He pulled her sharply in.

She sighed, "Alright. Alright. But I want answers. Later."

"Okay."

The ride in the elevator was silent, as Bucky thought about what he had to do. He had to make sure that apartment was secure, that no one was waiting for them. And then, he had to investigate what the man had said about Cara.

_"She is not all that she seems."_

Cara was a point of interest to others. And that could mean danger. He had to know every variable. He had to, or they would do something to her. Not just to get at him, but because she was special.

Special people never lasted long.

And the memory of her hands on his made the idea of that almost painful.

As she opened the door, he cleared his throat.

"Thank you," he said. She looked at him, slightly surprised.

"For what?"

"For trusting me."

She blinked. "No problem."

"No. Most wouldn't. You have no reason to. I don't even have any reason to."

"Bucky. I trust you. I have good judgement. So, how about this? Trust me on this one. I have very good reason to trust you. And you should too."

He was at a loss for words.

She put her hand on his arm. "Just... Not right now, but one day. Trust me."

She turned and left him standing there in the hallway, alone again. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the key she had given him.

_Trust me._

He sighed, and shut the door.

_Trust me._

How could he trust anyone, ever?

_Trust me._

And why... Why did he want to so badly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is it with me and B-Sides from forever ago that will never be heard on the radio in a million years.


	9. Reynard Amatus

The day passed without incident, and it turned to night. Bucky hadn't slept again, but he had a feeling that wasn't going to change anytime soon. He had gotten up early, avoiding Cara for much of the day, until she had walked passed him, wearing a dress, and jacket, heading out. He watched her carefully, not asking where she was going, not expecting her to tell him. It was a surprise when she spoke to him, her voice cutting into his thoughts.

"Hey, Bucky," Cara said, walking to the door. "I'm heading to work."

"Where's that?"

"A bookstore a few blocks away. I'll be home by five at least."

"Okay."

"Do you need anything?"

"No."

"Alright. See you later."

"Yeah."

She was gone in a second, no mention of the day before, of the man, or his request. After they come back, he had spent hours validating her story, to find some reason for her to be important. He half expected her to be a cover, for Cara Fox to have been a lie. But (and he was... happy to say), Cara Fox existed. She was perfectly normal. Had lived in a few places throughout her childhood, graduated high school, then college, before working for a small company that went out of business. She had found another job, which she had abruptly quit after only a few weeks. She had moved around a bit, before moving here. She had some family in DC, which was why she had been there, when she met him. Probably checking up on them, after what had happened.

As far as he could tell, she was exactly who she said she was. There was nothing more to her.

And that made him even more uneasy about that man's would they want with Cara?

He got up, pacing around the room as he tried to think about.

He could ask her. He could ask if there was anything usual, and then she could have her guard up. But he didn't see what good that would do other than frighten her. He wasn't sure that being on guard could protect anyone from people who could disappear like smoke.

They might have said that just wanted to mess with him. To get inside his head, to play some sick mind game with him.

That also made him even more anxious about growing attached to her. If this was a game, and they (whoever  _they_ were) won... He shuddered to think about that. As much as he hated to admit it, when he had lost sight of her at the store, he had felt genuine worry for her. Not the mission. But  _her_.

He shouldn't care about what happens to this stranger, this woman who had wandered into his life, other than that she was his mission. He had to protect her. That was the first choice he had made in his new life, and he would die to fulfill it. That was all he knew. Finish the mission, no matter what.

The longer he stayed here, they bigger the window for something to happen.

He grabbed his gear, his coat and hat and gloves. His gun and knife were hidden away, ready to be used.

She wouldn't be that hard to track. There was only one book store in the range she said. He wasn't going to fail his first mission. He wasn't going to fail. He was not going to fail Cara Fox.

* * *

Bucky leaned against the building across the street, watching the entrance to the store. Not many people went in, but he did not have a visual on her. He waited. The minutes stretched on, and he began to feel more anxious.

Finally, he stepped away, deciding to go inside. It would be easier to keep an eye on her if he was near her, and it would be easier to help if anything happened.

As he crossed the street, he kept repeating those words in his mind.

Do not fail your mission.

Do not fail her.

Do not fail Cara Fox.

Do not fail your mission.

* * *

Cara stood at the counter, hair pulled back, as she read Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. It was the first in a very long list of things she wanted to read. The fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. was probably the best thing in the world for her literary life.

The other woman, Mavis, who was the sister of the owner, was busy stacking books on the shelf next to her, from the new shipment they just got in. Cara had offered to help, but the woman had smiled kindly, and told her to keep reading, shocked that she had not yet read it. Cara had wanted to explain that there had never been time, that SHIELD didn't exactly prioritize literature, but she had smiled, and thanked her.

"I cannot believe that you have read Frankenstein" she had said, shaking her head, her short, graying hair falling into her face. "Kids these days. That used to be my favorite book."

"What's your favorite book now?"

"Oh, my dear. That would be like asking who is my favorite child."

The bell on the door rang. Cara looked up. Bucky walked in. She put down her book.

"Hey," she said. He glanced at the woman stacking books, and walked over to her.

"I wanted to check on you," he said quietly, almost like he was embarrassed. He looked at the book in her hand.

"I'm doing fine," she said. "It's a slow day."

He nodded, shifting uncomfortably, obviously unsure of what to do now. He looked at the bookshelves.

"Do you have any history books?"

"Oh., yeah, definitely" she said. "What time are you looking for?"

"Anything. Preferably World War II to present, but... Anything."

She nodded thoughtfully, as she walked around the corner, then waved him over to a shelf in in the back of the room.

"Anything you want to know, and more," she said. He stared at them. She noted his eyes quickly darted to the biographies, taking in Steve Rogers', and glancing quickly away. She noted that he also took in that there was one on HYDRA, and on famous assassinations. She noted that he did not seem at all disturbed by the contradictions about his place among the pages.

"Is this what you were looking for?"

"Yes. Yes, I think so."

"I'll be up front if you need anything."

"Thank you, Cara."

"No problem, Bucky."

She began to walk away, pausing as he called out to her.

"Can I stay here? Until you're done? Then walk with back with you?"

"Yeah, sure."

He nodded. "Thank you."

"I'll be up front if you need anything."

As she sat back down at the counter balancing on the edge of the stool, she found herself having trouble focusing on the words, and drifted off into her own history.

_Cara threw a punch, quickly blocking the fist aimed at her side, ducking as another one swung at her head. Natasha moved with all the fury of a storm, not going easy on her for a second. Cara could barely keep up. The Russian assassin swiped at her legs, knocking them out from under her, and just like that, she was down. Cara landed hard on her side, gasping. Natasha stood up quickly._

_"You almost made it three minutes in that time," she said. Cara groaned, struggling into an upright position._

_"This is not fair in the slightest."_

_Nat smirked, before she glanced behind her, and Cara turned around to see Agent Clint Barton walk up. She stood up, hands on her hips._

_"What do you want, Barton?" Natasha said, crossing her arms, and looking serious again. Cara knew it was an act. Clint was one of the few people she acted human around. "Come to try and challenge me to a shooting contest again?"_

_"You're getting off lucky this time, Romanoff. Your trainy won't get to see me beat you," he said. "Coulson sent me to get her." He nodded at Cara._

_"Great," Cara said, stretching. "What does he want?"_

_"Didn't ask. But you were supposed to meet him thirty minutes ago, so," he nodded towards the door._

_Cara stared at him. "What were you doing for the past thirty minutes?"_

_He shrugged. "Stuff."_

_"What?"_

_"Coulson sent me to get you. You're late to you're meeting. I was doing important stuff."_

_"Oh, my god. How are do you even work here?" She said, storming off to the wall to get her bag._

_"As it so happens, I'm very good with a bow."_

_She glared at him. "Where are we meeting him?"_

_"Oh, not me. Just you. His office. Have fun."_

_"Barton!" She snapped, running off._

_When Cara made it into Coulson's office, she found him waiting at his desk. Another man sat in the chair across from him. They both looked at her._

_"Agent Fletcher, how thoughtful of you to arrive."_

_"Sorry, sir," Cara said. "Barton waited until now to inform me of the meeting." She sat down across from him, glancing to the man on her left. A sharp gaze, brown hair slightly long, and what was probably a permanent troublemaking smirk. Coulson smiled slightly._

_"Cara Fletcher," he said. "This Agent Reynard Amatus. He's your new partner."_

_Cara looked at him, analyzing him, and he returned it. "I've never had a partner before. I've never needed one."_

_"Fury wants to try something new."_

_She nodded, bitterness kept easily off her face, and out of her voice, knowing better than to argue. "Yes, sir."_

_He handed them both a file. "You're already being assigned your first mission, leading a small specialized team. You two are our field agents. We'll have a team backing you."_

_Amatis paused, speaking up for the first time. "It says we're leaving tomorrow." His accent was British, but Cara knew that in this line of work, he could be from anywhere._

_Coulson smiled again. "So it does."_

_"Sir. We've barely met," she said. "We're not ready to run a mission together. It's a recipe for disa-"_

_"I need you to trust us on this one. It's nothing difficult. The mark is a hacker who happened upon some of our funds. He's not a threat yet. But we need his laptop. He may have stumbled upon somethings he shouldn't have. Can you do it?"_

_They glanced at each other._

_"Yes, sir," they said in unision._

_"Good. Check back in with me before departure tomorrow."_

_They both stood up, and walked out._

_"So, Agent Fletcher," he said. "How bad did you mess up to get landed with me?"_

_She looked at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"_

_"You're a legend around here. A little bit, at least. Agent Cara Fletcher. Raised inside SHIELD, one of Coulson's pet projects. So, how'd you get stuck with me?"_

_"I'm sure you're fine."_

_"No. I fucked up. I fucked up big time. So, either you're being punished, or I am."_

_"Look, Agent Amatus-"_

_"Aim."_

_"Aim?"_

_"Short for Amatus. Reynard sounds old. Reynie sounds young. Aim sounds right."_

_"I'm not calling you that, Amatus. Look, we both screwed up. So they're killing two birds with one stone and monitoring us both, make sure we can still work. They're going to be watching our every move."_

_"So, are we going to let them?"_

_"Yes. We don't have a choice."_

_"God. You're as goody two shoes as they say. I bet you've never broken a rule in your life."_

_"It's hard to break rules to when you have the biggest defense program in the world breathing down your neck for every minute of every day."_

_"Good point. I'll fix that soon."_

_She glared at him. "I don't like you."_

_"Already?" He looked shocked. "I'll have to fix that too." He began to to walk down the hall, leaving Cara alone with her bag. "It seems, like you said, Agent Cara Fletcher, that we will be seeing more of each other."_

_And it was true._

"Cara, love," Mavis said. "You're off now." Cara looked up, glancing at the clock

"Well, look at that," she said. "Where's Bucky?"

"He's where you left him, still reading," she said. Cara smiled and nodded, walking over to him.

"Bucky," she said. He looked up from where he sat on the ground, a book about the fifties in his hands. "Find what you were looking for?"

He shook his head. "I don't know if I ever will."

"Need my help?"

"No. Not yet."

She extended her hand, pulling him to his feet, as he smoothly put the book back onto the shelf. He paused as looked down at her, his left hand, in a glove, curled around tightly around hers.

"Is your arm okay?" He said. He pulled her sleeve back slightly, eyes darkening as he saw the finger sized bruises.

"It's getting there," she said, and he nodded slowly, looking slightly guilty, letting her go.

Cara pulled on her jacket over her dress. Bucky wasn't looking at her, his gaze flitting into the street, as he pulled his hat down over his eyes.

"Goodbye Cara," Mavis said. "And goodbye Cara's friend. I'm sure I'll be seeing more of you."

Cara shivered at her words.

Bucky glanced sharply at her, before nodding at the other woman. As they walked outside, she walked closely to him. There was something familiar about him.

He glanced down at her as they walked.

"Are you cold?"

"No. I just... Remembered something."

And so they left, Cara walking with more than one ghost.


	10. The Meaning Of Smiles

The news played on TV, when Cara saw a familiar face.

Natasha.

It was footage from a while ago. A month, at least. She had missed it.

Cara held the remote in both hands, behind the couch, staring as Natasha pushed through the gathering crowd of reporters, as some newscaster discussed the threats of the ex agents. She didn’t notice her fingers turning white around the plastic as she pressed it against her lips.

"Romanoff, I swear to god, if you get yourself arrested," she murmured, despite knowing the other woman would be fine. Natasha would be long gone. Everyone would have done the same as her and cleared out, or try to rebuild, or take a job with Stark. No one would mess with them if they worked for the biggest .  

"Cara?" Bucky said, walking in. She jumped slightly. He looked at the tv, gaze hardening, as he stood next to her. "What's happening?"

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. “People are being stupid.”

He watched the screen carefully, bracing his hands on the back of the couch. His metal fingers twitched slightly.  

"The Black Widow," he said, almost to himself. Cara glanced at him, and he spoke up louder. “What were they saying?”

“Talking about how the old SHIELD agents are dangerous or something, like all of them were terrorists,” she said. “It’s not true. Not all of them, at least. They didn’t know what was happening. It was a mess. God, no one knew what was happening.”

“They didn’t have a choice,” he said again, quietly, to himself again. He pulled back, slipping away again. He paused in the doorway, looking back at her. “Even if that’s true, Cara, they can still be dangerous. Even if they didn’t know what they were doing, even if they didn’t have a choice. They're still dangerous.”

Cara tried to speak, but found her voice had mysteriously disappeared, as did the man in front of her. She released a small breath, turning back to the screen, and turning it off. The screen clicked to black, plunging her into darkness.

* * *

_We’re meeting for lunch._

Cara had received that in a cryptic text that could only be from Sybil. As her friend had neglected to mention a place or time, she had called her, and had finally, finally set up a time, at a place near Sybil’s work. She had told Bucky that she was going, and he had nodded, after making her promise to be careful.

Where they were sitting was outside. The sun was out, and the food was decent. Sybil was, as usual, talking away. Cara found herself both not quite listening, and not eating, as she watched the cars pass.

“You decide to live in the same city as me,” Sybil was saying. “But you refuse to speak to me. See, you're ignoring me.”  

“I talk to you, Sybil,” she said. “I’m talking to you right now.”

“Yeah,” she said. “After like, two weeks. Is it that new guy? Is he replacing me? I hate him.”

“Bucky? No, he’s not replacing you. I hardly see him, honestly. He spends a lot of time alone. Mainly, he walks me to work, and walks me home. We eat together sometimes.He doesn't say much. I think he has a bit of a rough past.”

Sybil snorted, stirring her spoon around in her soup. “Don’t we all?"

Cara murmured in agreement, idly fiddling with the napkin. "How's working for Stark going?"

"Not bad," Sybil said. "I'm not the first SHIELD person to defect there apparently. And I wasn't the last. I saw Maria the other day."

"Oh, yeah? How is she?"

"Good. I think. As good as any of us can be. And, I get to work near my almighty science idol Bruce Banner."

"You don't bother him, do you?"

"Pssh, nah. Me? Bother the Hulk? Never."

"He probably has work to do. And so do you."

"Yes, mother."

"Promise you'll leave him alone."

"I solemnly swear that I will not poke Bruce Banner with a stick again."

"Sybil!"

"What? No one was paying attention to me. And he was really cool about it. I like him. He's my new buddy."

"I'm guessing this is a one way sentiment," she said. "Poor Banner."

"He sides with me against Tony in the arguments."

"He must be the most patient person on this planet, dealing with you two children."

Sybil stuck her tongue out at her. "Shut up. How's your life?"

"Fine. It's all fine. I like the quiet. It's a nice change."

"So, there's been no... Weirdness? You know since all your secrets have been split onto the Internet?"

"Nothing. It's kinda scary actually. I like the quiet, but this... This is bordering on silent."

"You know the Fridge has been breached, right? All the crazies are loose? _All_ of them?"

Cara froze. "Yes. Yes, I did know that. I haven't seen any sign of any one. And you know I would look."

“There’s not many people who can help anymore Cara. HYDRA wiped out entire facilities. And those still out there have their own problems to deal with, their own bad guys. It’s chaos. Everyone is fighting their own personal war.”

“I know. That’s why I went under. Cara Fletcher is dead. Cara Fox was born. I'm ordinary now.”

"Yeah, right," Sybil said, snorting again. “Just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“I did.” She said, keeping an easy smile on her face. She didn’t say that this was the first time that she was alone. That she was absolutely terrified, that there were people who she had locked up, people who wanted her dead, to pay for it, out there. That there were people worse than that out there as well. That she had sworn to herself to protect a man with, if possible, more enemies than her, when she wasn’t even sure if she could protect herself. She didn’t say any of this, and just kept smiling.

"I'll have Tony keep an eye out too," she said, raising her hand as Cara began to speak again. "And no, I know, don't mention you. You're supposed to be far away, in some magical land, like Canada. Or Tahiti. Man, I want to go to Tahiti."

"Thank you. And follow your dreams, young one. Go to Tahiti, live your life."

"Thanks, wise teacher. If you need help, don't hesitate to call. You have two Avengers on your speed  dial, and I have the Internet history of another."

"Do I want to know which one? No, nevermind, I don’t."

"Not Banner. Not Rogers. Does hot Asgardian one have access to Internet? It's I’m not sure, but  anyways, not him-"

"Sybil, no."

"I could probably find a way to blackmail Cap, though. Do you have any embarrassing childhood stories about him?"

_I could ask Bucky,_  she thought.  _But I don't think that conversation would go over very well._

Instead, she said, "I am not helping you blackmail the Avengers. Especially not Captain America! The man's a practically saint, and a senior citizen!"

"A gorgeous one. Who was probably an embarrassing child, let’s face it. No one can be that perfect, and not have accidentally lit something on fire in a chemistry class at least once."

“Just because you happened to do that every few days,” Cara said. “That does not mean that normal people did.”

“It was not every few days. Once in a while, a pencil would spontaneously combust, but half the time, that wasn’t even my fault. And don’t change the subject, we’re talking about Uncle Steve’s probably embarrassing childhood. Ooooh, I wonder if he ever had any bad haircuts.”

“I never took part in conversation.”

"You're no fun," Sybil grumbled, crossing her arms.

"No. I’m boring.”

“Fine, you wanna change the subject,” she said. “You should come visit me! I can show you my secret project I’m working on.”

“I’m trying to lay low,” she said. “When you inevitably blow something up, and all the major new stations are there, I want to be as far away as possible.”

“But it’s a great project!” Sybil said, leaning forward in her chair, with a conspiratorial look. “Listen. I can’t actually tell you anything, yet. I’m mildly sworn to secrecy. But it’s a-”

 “I don’t want to know,” Cara said. “It’s only going to make me worried, and I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“Fine,” she said sullenly, leaning back. “When I’m rich and famous, you’ll be the last to know.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

Sybil stuck her tongue out at her friend again, and for a few moments, it felt like all was was going to be okay.

* * *

Bucky liked to go running in the morning, Cara learned. She first heard him get back, shutting the door quietly, as he came back. She watched him, through the crack in her door, come back, hair pulled out of his face, breathing heavily, hair pulled back out of his face. He stopped, leaning against the wall, staring at some point in space. Cara shifted her weight slightly, wincing at the sound of the floorboards creaking beneath her feet.

His head snapped up, as he looked sharply at her. Carefully, she slipped into the hall. He kept his eyes trained on her, making no move as she walked closer to him.

“Good run?” she said.

He shrugged. “I guess.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“As usual.”

“You need to at some point,” she said. “You can’t spend your entire life running from your nightmares.”

He shut his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “I can try.”

Cara gave a short, slightly bitter laugh, hoping he didn’t pick up on it, watching as his eyes .opened again at the sound.

“Trust me, you can’t. I tried to too, and it’s useless. You’ll face them eventually, and it’s always worse if you wait.”

“How do you know that?” He said, raising his eyebrow.

“You’re self destructive,” she said. “You think you can destroy yourself, in the most painless way possible, and you don’t even realize you’re doing it.”

He opened his mouth slightly, before standing up straighter and shrugging again.

“If you were me, you’d be self destructive too.”

His tone was quiet, filled with self loathing, and guilt, and anger, and pain, and, almost undetectably, sadness.

Cara blinked, unprepared for his bluntness. And, it concerned her slightly. She was going to protect him, even if it was from himself. Stepping in front of him so that he caught her gaze, she watched him. He met her eyes briefly, before looking sharply away, no longer leaning against the wall. He caught her arms the same way he did when he met her, as if to keep himself steady. He made sure not to hold too tight.

“You’re okay,”

"Cara Fox," he said. "You don't know what you’re talking about."

Cara looked up at him. He still didn't meet her gaze, keeping his head bowed, his eyes on his feet. His breath came short and fast, and he held onto her tighter. She reached out to hold his arms, keeping him steady.

"I knew him," he whispered. "That man on the bridge. I knew him. I knew him. I knew him!"

“Bucky. You’re okay. Listen to me, listen to my voice. I’m right here, you’re okay.”

He finally met her eyes. Murmuring something she couldn’t quite catch, he took a deep breath.    

"Would mind if I ran with you tomorrow?"

His expression changed slightly, clearly wondering what had prompted the question.

"I wouldn't mind," he said. “If you can keep up.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“If you want it to be.”

“Oh, it’s on now,” she said. “I’m so going to enjoy beating you.”

A small smile pulled at his lips. It was the closest thing to an honest one she had ever seen on him. She smiled back. He let her go, although neither of them moved.

“Now we can outrun our nightmares together,” she said.

“Together,” he repeated.

It felt nice to have that word mean something again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a while. Sorry. I won't let that happen again if I can help it. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, despite the fact it's been forever. I hope you liked it. See ya next time.


	11. Dust To Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is Cities in Dust by The Everlove. There's totally a theme happening in this chapter, and I'm not entirely sure how it happened.

Steve Rogers hadn't slept in a while.

At least, it wasn't good sleep.

Whenever he had time, he had just lay there. Thinking about everything. S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA. Bucky. Sam. Fury. Natasha. The rest of the Avengers.

And if by some miracle, he did manage to fall asleep, he would see his best friend beating him in the face over and over and over again. Sam would wake him up, shaking his shoulder, never pressing. He knew Sam had nightmares too. They didn't talk about them.

He could tell Sam was worried about him. The other man kept glancing at him, as they searched for any sign of him. Of Bucky.

He was alive.

Bucky was alive.

"Steve," Sam had said. "When we find him... He might not be Bucky. He might not be who you remember. He might be another man with your friends face."

"I know," Steve said. "But I have to find him. I left him behind once, and I'm never doing it again."

"He might not give you a choice."

"I know. But I won't give him one either."

That had been days ago.

He stood by the window in the small hotel. It looked out upon an empty field, dust gently stirring in the wind. He ran his hands over his face. He was exhausted, and he knew it. They had taken a break from trying to track down Bucky taking out a few HYDRA operatives in the area. It had been easy, and as he hated to admit it, he had enjoyed it. All that pent up rage at the loss of his friend, and with no one to take it out on, it had worn him down.

He was just so tired.

The dust outside the window didn't settle until they left the small town far behind them.

* * *

_"Bucky," Steve said. They crouched on the side of the road, hidden in the undergrowth. "Let me do this. It's what I was made for. It's my job."_

_"No way in hell," he snapped. "You're not indestructible."_

_"I'm more indestructible than you," Steve shot back. Bucky felt himself almost flinch. Almost. They were surveying a HYDRA leader's house. The man had some valuable information, and they need it. Now. Someone needed to sneak in and kill the guards around the perimeter, but it was risky, and there was a very big chance that whoever tried it would not come back alive. That was what he and Steve were arguing about._

_"Look, I promised Peggy I'd get you back alive, so let me do this."_

_"What does Peggy have to do with any of this?"_

_"Goddamn it, shut up, and let me do this!"_

_He would never tell his friend this, but it wasn't just the habit of trying to keep his friend safe that made him want to go in his place. It was something else. Steve Rogers was a good man. And Bucky... Bucky wasn't, not compared to him. He didn't want to ruin that goodness. He was not going to have Steve Rogers taking lives when he didn't have to._

_He was gonna do it. He was going to save his friend. They may have turned his best friend into a weapon, arming him with steel and guns, but he wasn't going to let Steve Rogers take those bullets, until he lost himself. He wasn't going to let them turn him into something he was not._

_He was scared, yeah, of those guards, of losing Steve to himself or war, of dying, of being captured again, of how he could kill more accurately than anyone else here, of the cold that hadn't seemed to leave him since he returned from his imprisonment, settling in his chest. He was terrified._

_And that is why he ran forward, ignoring Steve's frantic grab at him, and the following irritated hiss of "Bucky!"_

_It would be better if the world lost him than a good man. It would be better if the world lost Bucky Barnes than Steve Rogers._

_Taking out the first two guards were easy. They weren't really paying attention, making it incredibly easy to slip up behind them, snapping their necks. He was able to silence them as they died, leaving them unable to notify anyone else. He tried to ignore the feeling in his gut as he killed them. The apathy as he felt them die. They were hurting people, and he was stopping them, and it was his job, and it had to get done._

_The next job was going to be taking out the patrol that would be coming around in thirty second. Better trained than the first, but as soon as he got them, he could sneak into the house and signal that it was probably safe, and Steve could join him there._

_They had masks on. For a brief irrational moment, he thought about how annoying it must be to fight with a mask on. But as the both fell to the ground after brief struggle, him ending up with a shallow stab wound to the gut, he stopped thinking about it._

_Steve ran next to him._

_"I'm going to kill you, James Buchanan Barnes," he snapped._

_"HYDRA got here first," Bucky said, smiling grimly, and lifting up his hand, covered in blood._

_Steve's eyes widened. "Bucky," he said slowly. "Did you get shot?"_

" _Stabbed," he said. "But not bad."_

" _Not bad..." Steve said._

" _You're worrying about me. This is a change," he said. Steve shook his head, smiling a ghost of a smile, as he walked over, supporting his friend. "Let's go get your information."_

" _You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?" Steve said._

" _See, this is how I felt for years," Bucky said. "Not very nice."_

" _Shut up, jerk."_

" _Punk."_

_Outside, the light snow swirled like dust in the wind, covering the forest surrounding the HYDRA household._

* * *

Bucky was watching Cara. She smiling, helping the customer find a book. He was sitting in the chair, a book balanced in his leap about famous mysterious assassinations throughout history. He wasn't quite sure, but he was sure at least one of them was his. He was trying to read, but his eyes kept drifting to where she stood. In the dim light of the store, he could see her laughing quietly, unable to quite make out the words she was saying. Her hair loose today, he noticed, glinting like flames. The more he sat there, the more he began to wonder if she was a distraction, from keeping her safe.

She glanced over at him, and he quickly looked back down at the book. The page had an illustration of a hotel, mapping out how a someone important was poisoned at one point.

A shadow fell over the book.

He looked sharply up.

Mavis stood over him.

"I never caught your name."

"It's Bucky."

"Bucky what?"

"I... Barnes. Bucky Barnes."

"That's a nice name."

He struggled for a moment to find the words. "Thank you."

"Why do you come here everyday?" She said gently, switching easily into the subject, ignoring Bucky's shift. "Is it cause you have no where else to go? Or is it for her?" She glanced at Cara. He stared at the woman in question for a moment, before trying to answer, without saying something along the lines of I'm afraid that the same people who want to get me will get her when I'm not looking, and kill her or worse.

"I just want to make sure she's okay."

Mavis nodded sympathetically. "You had it rough, I can tell. I can see it in your eyes. I had a friend once, with those same look. But you don't have to be here all the time. I can keep an eye on her."

"I... Thank you... But it makes me feel better if I can see her."

"I know. You care about her."

"I promised myself I wouldn't let anything happen to her. She's been nothing but kind to me."

"She's like that, isn't she?" Mavis said. "She cares about you, in the same way. I can how she looks at you. PShe isn't going to let anything happen to you either."

Bucky didn't know what to say, so he fell silent, turning back to his book.

"Have you read anything other than history since you've been here?"

"No."

The woman shook her head in disapproval, clucking her tongue. "I'll be right back."

Bucky watched her disappear into the shelves, listening to her footsteps on the soft carpet fade away. He looked back over at Cara, to see that the customer she was helping had moved closer significantly, leaning over her in an almost cornering fasion, with a look in his eye that Bucky didn't like. Cara was handing him the book, and explaining a concept, and smiling that smile.

The man took it from her, his fingers brushing hers. Bucky felt something drop in his chest. He suddenly had a very vivid picture of punching the man in his smug face, his fingers tightening at the thought.

"Here we are," Mavis said, handing the same book Cara had been reading before. He jumped slightly, out of his thoughts. "Cara had never read it, so I'm assuming you haven't either."

Frankenstein. The Modern Prometheus.

It sounded familiar.

"I think I did. Once. I don't remember."

"Oh, you'd remember. A mad scientist. A creature born of vengeance. Both of them monsters, in different ways."

Bucky looked at her in confusion.

"Well, the creature was a monster, but he had no choice about it. The scientist, the creator, he was a monster in a very different way. It makes you wonder who the true victim was. And if the creation, born unholy of man's pride and ambition, was ever as bad as his creator."

Bucky stared at it, before taking it slowly.

"I'm going to go rescue our dear Cara, before one of you commit a felony. No, don't give me that look I saw how you were looking at them, and I saw her face too. I'll be right back."

When she left, telling Cara to go do something, he looked back down at the book in his hand. The creature's face stared back at him.

Monster. But not if its own choosing. Not as bad as his creator.

He wondered if it applied to all monsters.

"Mavis said I can leave early."

He looked up sharply, seeing Cara standing near him, stacking a book on the shelf. The customer she had been helping had disappeared. "We can leave now if you want to."

"Okay," he said, standing up, and looking around for Mavis to give back the book. He caught her eye from the front desk, and she nodded to him, mouthing Keep it. Sliding it into his pocket, he followed Cara out the door, the little bell he had never notied there rang.

"Have fun?"

"She gave me a book."

"She does that."

They fell silent as they walked, Bucky doing continuous sweeps of the area to make sure they weren't being followed or watched.

"She seems nice," he said at last.

"There are worse bosses. You could probably get a job there with me if you wanted. She'd let you."

"Maybe I will."

At that moment, someone knocked into him hard, the book flying from his pocket, landing on the ground. A few of the pages were loose, and flew into the wind, like dust.

Cara knelt to pick it up, glaring after the man.

"Stupid New Yorkers," she said, handing it to him. He took it, keeping it securely in his grip, as they began to walk again.

"It's fine."

"Some of the pages are missing. You're not gonna get the whole story."

"I can figure it out."

"I'll get you a new copy tomorrow."

"Cara, it's fine."

She sighed. "Okay. Mavis could replace it for you-"

"I'm fine."

"If your sure."

"I am," he said. She looked up at him, still looking irrationally angry over the fallen book, and he felt the corners of mouth twitch at her expression. She shook her head, turning away. Together, they walked side by side back to the apartment.

* * *

Unknown to either of them, the same man from the store stood off to the side in an alley, watching them. He never followed them back to their home, only this far. He wasn't  _rude_.

"Ashes to ashes," he murmured quietly, as he watched them fade away into the crowds. He knelt down, picking up a handful of dirt off the ground.

"Dust to dust."

It slid from his fingers like sand in an hourglass. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A LITTLE BIT OF EXPLANATION. The middle, backstory, flashbacky type part there was extremely angsty (don't blame me, I grew up watching Lost), but I really wanted to show that Bucky was beginning to lose himself even before he became the Winter Soldier.   
> And I miss my babies Steve and Sam a lot, so there they are.  
> Thank you for your feedback, and for reading!


	12. This Dangerous Attachment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry about leaving this for like two months. There will be two chapters because I feel bad.   
> Song for this chapter is Out Of My League by Fitz and the Tantrums, which is ridiculously lighthearted compared to the rest of this.

Not working with the most intense defense program in the world had it's perks. Sure, there was the lack of security, lower to no pay, absolute chaos, and the chance that at any given moment, she could be killed or arrested or kidnapped. But hey, now she had she had more time on her hands then she knew what to do with. And that meant she now got to sit, (somewhat awkwardly, she had to admit), in front of a tv, and actually get into a show, without the threat of being called in for a mission that new would cause her to obsess over it. Of course, she was technically on one, but she had literally nothing else to do.

It was the second episode of some show she had never seen before, but she like the acting. The titular character was a bit of an jerk, reminding her of a few people she knew, but she liked it a lot. The writing was clever. The story good. She never saw herself liking a detective show (she had to deal with too many people, a certain Stark for example, who thought they were some version of Sherlock Holmes to ever watch one for enjoyment), but honestly she was beginning to get into it. As the credits began to roll, she listened as the announcer said,  _Don't go anywhere. Sherlock will be right back, here on BBC America-._

"What are you watching?" Bucky said from behind her, making her jump slightly. He had approached, as he always did, completely silently. She turned to him. His hands were braced on the back of the couch like when he saw Natasha, standing over her.

"A detective show," she said. "Wanna watch with me?"

He glanced at the spot next to her, then back at her, hesitating before walking around and sitting down, putting as much space between them as he could, sitting like he was about to take flight at any moment. She smirked, turning her attention back to the television.

Watching a show with an ex-assassin brainwashed Howling Commando.

Now that was also something she had never seen herself doing.

Today was just a day full of surprises.

~ ~ ~

Bucky had been sitting in his room for what seemed like hours. Maybe it was. He had been cleaning his gun (a SIG-Sauer P226... The same one that he had shot Steve Rogers with, actually. He ignored the mysterious feeling of nausea it gave him to touch it), when he had heard the sounds of voices coming from the living room. Sliding the pieces under the bed, still disassembled, and walked out.

It was just the stupid television.

The credits were rolling, being pushed to the sighed as an trailer popped up, a man in a long dark coat speaking very quickly. British. A voice was staying to stay tuned.

Cara hadn't seen him yet. If he wanted, he could go back to his room, continuing his work in solitude. He hesitated, as he began to turn away.

And if he was no longer in control of his body, he walk over, and stood behind her, finding his voice.

"What are you watching?" She jumped slightly, looking around at him in surprise. It was quickly eliminated from her features, however, and it quickly changed to a smile.

"A detective show," she said, moving over slightly, although there was already enough room on the couch for them both. "Wanna watch with me?"

He looked at it, putting as much space between them as he could, sitting like he was about to take flight at any moment. She smirked, turning her attention back to the television.

As the show progressed, he began to lean forward, as she clutched one of the pillows against her chest. The episode ended, and they both stared at the end credits, before looking at each other.

"It cannot end like that," Cara said. She began to laugh. Bucky thought it was one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard, although he hated himself for thinking that. "It cannot end like that! That was the season finale! They can't end it in a darkened swimming pool with a bomb, and pretend everything is okay."

He smiled slightly, shaking his head at her.

"How did they get out of that one?" She said, reaching for her phone. She had replaced the one from the wreck with a nearly identical one. "The next season was on a few years ago. I bet I can find it."

He noticed that she had shifted closer to him, unconsciously leaning towards him. He wasn't sure what to make of it. He looked at her again. Her hair was pulled over one shoulder, revealing the scar under her collarbone he had seen before, half hidden under the black collar of her shirt.

"How did you get that scar?" He asked, before he could stop himself. She looked at him sharply, fingers flying up to it. She smiled, thinly disguising the look of pain that came over her. He quickly tried to backpedal. "You don't have to tell me, sorry."

For a moment she seemed at a loss for words, opening her mouth, no sound coming out. She quickly recovered. "No, it's fine," she said, dropping her hand away from it. The smile she had put on became much easier to see through as she she spoke again. "I trusted someone... And I shouldn't have. Simple."

He nodded slowly, thinking carefully before speaking again. "Who were they?" There was an emotion he didn't He didn't like the idea of someone hurting Cara, of breaking her trust and scarring her, and if Cara gave him their name, he'd pay them a visit.

"It doesn't matter. Old coworker. It doesn't matter anymore."

He nodded again, feeling a little disappointed. She fell quiet, before she looked at his hand next to her.

"What about you?" She said. "How'd you get that?"

He froze.

What the hell could he say?

_Oh, Hydra gave me that, when I fell off a train and died seventy years ago. I use it to kill people. Don't worry._

He settled for muttering, "Accident."

It was her turn to nod. Gently, she reached over, taking it both of hers. Her thumbs brushed over his palm. His fingers twitched. He could feel it, lightly, like an echo of a memory.

"Can you feel that?"

"Sort of. Yes. Barely."

"Amazing," she murmured. "It should be impossible. It's simulating the same electrical impulses as would normally be found in the original, connecting to the nerves in the back and chest. The muscles that would have had be replaced or damaged, and the weight of it, you'd need new knees... Not to mention the possibility of infection, or it getting rejected. The science it must have took to create this, Bucky. It's amazing." He watched her face tense up as she tried to figure him out. He didn't understand a lot of what she was saying, her words mainly for herself, like mental notes. There was a light there he hadn't seen before. He didn't want to let it go out.

"Do you like science, Cara?"

"I was never very good at it. But yes, I always found it interesting. If things had been different, maybe I would have been better at it."

She ran her fingers over the joints, landing on his wrist.

"What do you mean?"

"Get obsessed with one thing too long, everything else sort of steps aside. And when you lose that, you realize how much you've been missing."

"I can understand missing things."

"What do you miss, Bucky?"

He stared at their hands.

"I don't know. I'm trying to figure that out."

"I'm trying to figure you out. If I make any progress, I'll tell you."

He gave a short laugh, not seeing how her face lit up when he did.

"Good luck with that, Holmes," he said, nodding at the darkened screen.

"Why, thank you, my dear Watson."

She slid it into her own, entwining their fingers. His heart beat faster. Her flesh and bone one, slender and pale, and his, glinting in the dim light, used to kill, to murder, nothing more than a weapon. She looked up at him, the light catching her eyes, making them seem almost luminous. He felt a sharp pain in his chest. He pulled away from her, despite how empty it left him feeling.

"I'm going to bed, Fox," he said carefully, standing up.

"Okay."

Pausing in the doorway, though, not looking back, he said, "If anyone ever tries to hurt you like that again, you can tell me. I'll take care of it."

And he was gone.

* * *

Cara woke up suddenly, hearing Bucky screaming something in the night. She got up quickly, running into his room. He was curled in the corner of his bed, speaking a jumbled mix of Russian and English. He was awake, but not fully lucid, repeating his name, and random orders, and dates. He spoke too quickly for her to catch a lot of it, most of it being nonsense.

"Bucky," she said. She walked quickly to his side, sitting down next to him. "Bucky, I need you to breath for me."

"My name is James Buchanan Barnes."

"Yes, it is. What is my name?"

He was breathing heavily. "Cara Fox. Your name is Cara Fox."

"Yes. Good."

She shifted closer to him touching his shoulder lightly. He flinched violently.

"It was just a dream. That's all it was."

"I don't know where I am. Where am I? My head. My head hurts."

"You're here with me. Right here, it's okay."

He leaned into her touch after a moment, curling his body against hers. He felt so vulnerable next her, and she gently and repeatedly ran her fingers through his hair to try and slow his racing heart. He seemed more like a lost child now than a legendary soldier, clutching her like she was the last thing in the world.

"It was only a dream," she whispered. "You're safe. Nothing's gonna happen to you."

"My name is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes... 107th."

"I know, darling. I know. Go back to sleep, Bucky. I'm here."

"Cara."

"Yes, Bucky?"

He slipped his hand into hers. Not the metal one. The other one.

"Don't let me forget you."

Falling silent, he rested his head on her shoulder, in the crook of her neck. She kept her other arm around his shoulders.

"I'm here, Bucky."

Her voice cracked a little as she spoke. She hoped to God he couldn't hear her heart pounding. The proximity to him... It felt painful. She didn't like it. And as she sat there, she realized that she had almost fufilled step one.

He was trusting her.

And that made this all the more painful.

She was lying to him. If by some chance he ever found out, he would never, ever forgive her, if he didn't kill her on the spot.

She knew she was protecting him.... She knew that. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she was betraying her Soldier as well.

* * *

Bucky woke up, extremely confused, having no memory of the nightmare, luckily.

It was still dark, and he was aware of the heavy weight on his chest. He was sitting up, leaning against the wall, legs extended, his hand inside someone else's. His head rested on their shoulder, their knees bent, legs resting in his lap. He knew it was Cara. It had to be. Her red hair hung slightly in his face, her arm around his shoulder. He let go of her hand, untangling himself from her still sleeping form as gently as he could . Her head tilted onto his shoulder, and she breathed out quietly, as he shifted her down so she was lying down. As he got up, realized he was still holding onto her hand. Placing it on her stomach gently, he turned sharply, and practiaclly ran from the room.

What was he doing?

It wasn't like they had done anything, he didn't think, but she had slept in his bed, with him, holding him while he had suffered a breakdown. She had seen him at his weakest. That amount of intimacy terrified him. He didn't want to have to depend on her like that. If something happened, and he lost her, he knew he would never forgive himself.

He should have never gotten in her car. He should have left her there. He should have let her go. Maybe he wouldn't be forming this dangerous attachment Cara.

But he couldn't leave her. Not now.

It was too late for that.

He wondered what she had heard him say. From which nightmare he had been suffering when she found him. How the hell he convinced her to stay with him.

He looked back at her from his doorway. She had turned onto her side, facing him, hair falling into her face, looking like a picture of peace... She looked beautiful. Perfect.

As the moonlight hit her body, he fought the urge to go curl up next to her for the rest of the night. Fighting these thoughts away, he walked out to the living room, collapsing on the couch, running his hand over his face.

He had no idea how to get himself out of this one. And the worst part about that? Some little part of him was begging him not to even try. He shut his eyes again. All he could see was Cara Fox's face.

Cara Fox. His mission. She was going to be his downfall, he was sure of it.


	13. Freakshow

_October 7th, 1995_

_The raid on the mad, evil scientist’s base was going well, Phil Coulson thought, walking down the sterile white halls, other agents swarming picking up documents and information. The man they were here to collect, had been taken safely into custody, with little resistance, ranting to the people who agents who had arrested him about something called Project FIREBIRD, and “beloved”. Most of it had been nonsense._

_All of the doors were opened, people going in and out, finding and taking anything that could be of use. The science department, would have a field day when they got their hands on this, if they managed to past the crazy talk. That’s when his eye caught the unmarked door still closed._

_Walking briskly over, glanced at the handle, and hesitating before he opened it. They had swept for bombs and traps, and hadn’t found anything. That didn’t mean that he didn’t have a bad feeling about this._

_But it was his job. So, without another moment’s pause, he opened the door. And froze._

_After a few seconds, he managed to compose himself, and called out to the nearest person. “Garrett? Get Director Fury on the line now.”_

_The other man looked at him, in the usual bullet proof vest that the agents wore. His hand neared his gun._

_"What is it?"_

_"I think I found Project FIREBIRD."_

_He looked back in. It was a bare room, the same sterile white as the rest of the base, a small bed in the corner. It had a single occupant, curled into the corner. A little girl, probably no older than six or seven, with fiery red hair, and a sickly, pale look. Her deep green eyes stared at him with a look of terror._

_"Hello, there," he said, slowly entering the room. The girl shrunk back farther. "No. No, you don't need to be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you."_

_Kneeling in front of her, he tried to assess whether she was injured. He saw an IV port on her wrist, and one in the crook of her arm. She had a bruise on her cheek, and what looked like a catheter in her neck._

_"What are you doing here?"_

_She didn't answer._

_"Have you been here long?"_

_Still no answer._

_"What's your name?"_

_She paused._ _"Cara," she said, her voice shaking slightly as she spoke._

_"Hello, Cara. I'm Phil Coulson. We're going to take you somewhere else for a little while." He extended his hand to her. She didn't move. "I promise, we're not going to hurt you anymore. You're safe now."_

_She looked up at him. "Safe," she whispered._

_Slowly, she reached out, taking his hand. He smiled down at her, pulling her out into the hall where the other SHIELD personal glanced at them curiously. She stared back that them._

_"Phil Coulson," she said quietly. He looked down at her. "What's happening?"_

_"The man who was in charge here was bad guy. And we got rid of him."_

_She didn't answer, but looked around slowly. As they left the small hidden doors of the base, stepping into the sunlight, Cara blinked furiously, flinching and stepping back into the shadows._

_"Is it too bright?"_

_She looked around, squinting, and nodded. Taking the sunlight out of his pocket, he put them on her small face. It looked hilarious._

_"Coulson," a voice said from behind him. He jumped, spinning around to see Melinda May smirking at him. "What did you find there?"_

_"May. This is Cara. I was just going to find her a seat on the jet."_

_She looked down at the small girl, who looked seriously up at her. "I got it. Director's on the phone with Garrett and he wants an explanation," she said, reaching over, and taking Cara's hand from his. "Come on, Cara. He's got to go do some more work."_

_Coulson sighed, looking at them, and trying to think of exactly how to explain her to Fury. Cara turned around while walking, staring at him, still wearing the ridiculously too big sunglasses._

_"Welcome to SHIELD, Cara," Coulson said, before turning around to complete this mission._

* * *

_February 10th, 2008_

_“Amatus, Fletcher,” Coulson said. “Meet the rest of your team. Mark Cassius, he’ll be backing you up in case things get tough. Sophia Vela, your tech support, and hacker. Sybil White, science officer. Me, supervising officer.” Cara glanced at Amatus, who shrugged as if to say, “seems decent enough”._

_"Wow, we're like the Leverage team up in here," Sybil said, not looking up from her phone. She looked like she was the youngest one there, barely eighteen, hair cut short, and dyed in streaks. “I just started watching that show. It’s great. We should marathon it as a team sometime.”_

_“I’d rather stab myself in the face,” Cassius said. He was broad shouldered, muscular, with sharp, intelligent eyes, meeting everyone’s gaze in the room in an nearly hostile way._

_“Oh, come on, Cassius,” Vela said. She was beautiful, her long dark hair pulled back, dark brown eyes (that displayed that she was analyzing each of them without care), with elegant posture, drumming her fingers on the desk.“It’s honestly going to be the only invitation you’re going to get, to go anywhere.”_

_No one seemed happy to be here at all. Except for Amatus, who was grinning, like he had not a care in the world, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room. She knew that this wasn't the case. He was a spy. He knew how to read subtle body language, and this was in no way subtle. No one wanted to be here._

_“Well, we already love each other, I’m so sure this is going to work out well,” Cara said, giving Coulson a look that clearly stated, in the kindest way possible, ‘when this burns, you’re burning with it’._

_“Optimism, Fletcher,” Amatus said. “Optimism.”_

_Cara shot him the same look she gave Coulson, without the presumption of pleasantries. He grinned at her._

_“Well then, Shadows,” Coulson said, smiling painfully. “You all have your assignments. Get acquainted. Review the file. You’re shipping out in an hour.” He turned leaving the room._

_“Yay,” Sybil said absently, her gaze never leaving her screen, until after Coulson had left the room. “Wait, did he just call us ‘shadows’? What’s a shadow?”_

_“It’s the when something blocks the light, and makes it dark,” Vela said. “I thought you were the science officer on here, White. Aren’t you supposed to know this stuff?”_

_“Shut up. I’m probably smarter than all of you combined-”_

_“And you’re also like twelve,” Cassius said. “Let the grownups work, kid, and go back to school.”_

_“That’s it, you moronic toadstool, I will mess you up-” She stood up, slamming her hands on the table._

_“Everyone, just calm down, and review our jobs,” Amatus said, sitting that the table, opening the folder in front of him. “Okay. Me and Fletcher here are going to be playing happily engaged couple, Richard Cavan and Lilia Jackson, wealthy entrepreneurs who happen to be staying in the same hotel as our target. It’s a in and out operation. Honestly, I don’t see why we need a whole team for this.”_

_“We’re being punished,” Cara said sharply. Everyone looked at her. “Look. They think we can’t handle ourselves, but are too valuable to lose, and they put this freakshow together to try and compensate for that. I know about how all your previous mission went wrong. I know what you lost. I know about your flaws, and secrets, and mistakes. This... This is a team that is doomed to fail. That’s what everyone wants. That’s what everyone believes.”_

_She sat down across beside Amatus, taking the file from his hand, looking up at them all. They met her gaze. There was a fiery determination in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, trumping the guilt that had been haunting her features since the last mission._

_“Let’s prove them all wrong.”_

* * *

Cara woke up in his bed. She felt herself reach for him instinctively, to try and figure out his position. When she didn't find him, she opened her eyes, sitting up. He wasn’t anywhere in here. Slowly, she rose. Walking outside the room, and found him on the couch. His back was to her, his head in his hands. She could see where his skin melded into the metal of his arm.

“Bucky?” she called, to grab his attention. He jumped, turning around. Knowing that now she wouldn't surprise him, she walked around, and sat beside him. He stared at her, his dark blue eyes searching out hers before falling away, like he was ashamed of something. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer.

Crossing her legs, turning so that she faced him, she watched him. He looked less vulnerable the he had before. But still not completely the Bucky she knew. She reached forward, gently pushing his hair back. He shut his eyes at her touch, but didn’t move from it.

“Did I wake you up?” He murmured, his voice hoarse.

She paused. “No.”

“I did, didn’t I?” He pulled his arms tightly around his middle. “Stupid dreams. Sorry.”

“It’s alright. They aren’t real.”

“They were though. At one point. And that's what hurts.”

Cara stared at him. He looked broken. Broken. Beaten. Tired. Done. She had seen it before, and she hadn’t known how to fix it. Making a split second, she made the same choice she had before, and found herself pushing into his arms, her eyes closing as she held onto him. To take his mind off it. She needed to do at least that. He was stiff with surprise at first, his hands falling to her waist instinctively.

“I swear, I won’t let them hurt you anymore. I’ll protect you.” It was probably risky to say something like that. To put her purpose out there. But in this moment, she didn’t care. Something in her wanted to say anything she could to make him feel even a little better.

And it must have worked, because he began to laugh. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, and she felt his chest shake with amusement. Leaning back, he looked at her. His eyes were still dark, but he was laughing.   

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing. You were laughing.”

“Not at you.”

"What? Do you not think I could protect you?"

"I don't know."

“Thanks.”

“You just said something that reminds me of something I thought once.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing important.”

She sighed, sliding her hands onto his shoulders. His hair brushed over her hand.

"You know what is important though?" She said. She twisted a strand of it between her fingers. "This is getting long. Do you like it?"

"I never thought about it."

"I like it. But I can cut it for you, if you want."

She immediately regretted it. He looked panicked for a moment. She could only imagine, him thinking about her standing behind him with a sharp object. He knew every way that she could kill him. She in no way expected him to agree.

"Okay."

She blinked in surprise. "Okay?"

"Okay. I trust you."

She didn’t know whether she felt like laughing, crying, or simply smiling. She settled on the last.

Phase 2. Done. Phase 3 was mainly just keep him from dying or getting captured for as long as possible. And never let him know who she was.

But somewhere, in the back of her mind, she wondered if this mission, her mission, her life away from SHIELD, was compromising her. Because when she had looked at him, she had wanted to save him. And the line between wanting to save someone, and genuinely caring for them was a thin one she really didn't want to walk again. Because no matter what, if you care for someone, you will lose them. It was the only thing that Cara could say she knew for sure. 

* * *

_[Classified Date], 2012_

_When Steve Rogers had been recovered from the ice, Cara had been excited. She had cared as much as any good little SHIELD agent would, of course, but this was the hero of SHIELD had. He had practically lay the foundations for the organization that she had been with forever. She had grown up on stories about him, and had admittedly read several comics. So, against all orders (only a few people were allowed to see him), and with the help of the rest of the Freakshow, she snuck into his hospital room. Just to say "thank you"._

_He had been looking out the window when she entered, and she let her footsteps fall louder than usual to alert him to her presence. He turned around, looking sharply at her in surprise._

_"Steve Rogers?" She said carefully. He was staring at her, expression closely guarded._

_"Yes?"_

_"I... I don't really know why I came in. I just... Wanted to say thank you, I think."_

_"You think?"_

_"To be honest, I hadn't thought this far ahead," she admitted. "I thought they would have caught me by know. Not technically supposed to be here. But I really did want to thank you for everything you did."_

_He shook his head, smiling slightly. "Look, I don't want to get you in trouble-"_

_"It's not the worst thing I've done, and I haven’t been fired yet." She walked over, standing next to him. “What are you looking at?”_

_“I don’t know, just.... taking in the sights,” he said with a sigh. She gave him a sympathethic look._

_"Well, if you ever find yourself wanting to see more than just outside the window, come find us."_

_"Yeah, and who are 'us'?"_

_"Technically, we're called Shadows. All these screwups and misfits that have a second chance... We prefer to think of ourselves as the Freakshow. We could probably get you out of here, and into the world for a few hours without Fury even noticing."_

_"I'll take that into consideration," he said, looking down at her. "But for now... I think I'll have to pass."_

_"Okay-"_

_Her phone went off suddenly, the jaws theme playing. She jumped, grabbing it quickly. It was her cue to leave, as carefully explained by Sybil._

_"Well, looks like Fury's on his way. I'd best be off," she said, nearly running to the door, looking back at him. "_ _If you ever change your mind, find us."_

* * *

Bucky sat stiffly at the kitchen table, in front of a mirror Cara had brought out from her room. She stood behind him, gently running her fingers through his hair, and cutting off the ends. She was silent as she worked.

He kept a careful watch on the scissors, making sure she didn't try to stab him in the jugular or something. Not that he had been lying when he said he trusted her (he might have been. He wasn’t sure anymore.) But old habits die hard.

Her cool fingers brushed over his neck, and he resisted the shudder that ran through his body. She wasn't fooled, and paused.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

She had cut off about an inch, still leaving it pretty long, as she finished. She pulled his hair back, leaning down, and looking over his shoulder.

“Does this look good?”

“I guess.”

“That wasn’t a strong, definitive yes.”

“I just don’t care how it looks.”

She sighed slowly, before smiling mischievously. “So, I could just cut it all off, and you wouldn’t care?” She opened and closed the scissors quickly in front of him, grinning at the snipping noise it made.

“No, don’t do that.”

“You said you didn’t care.”

He tried to snatch them from her, but she pulled back sharply, laughing, as she backed away from him. “Cara!”

He got up, facing her, and trying to look disapproving. He obviously failed, as she simply laughed harder, and disappeared into the living room. He followed her, catching up to her quickly, catching the hand that held the scissors. Unfortunately, she had also misstepped at the exact same time, meaning the surprise of both the action, made her trip. He tried to catch her, but somehow, she managed to swipe his feet out from under him, making him fall on top of her, not without a few choice words.

He managed to catch most of his impact on his metal arm, avoiding completely crushing her. His other hand was still wrapped around hers, pinning it to the ground (that probably was the reason neither of them had been stabbed). He looked down at her, their faces centimeters apart, their legs tangled together. And that was when he realized that they were now in an extremely compromising position.

Her chest was still heaving from the fall, one hand holding onto his arm. She was still laughing, eyes shut, her head tilted back, hair fanning out beneath them. He found himself thinking back to that first day with her, when she sat next to him, soaking wet, wrapped in his jacket, and bleeding, and he had thought that she was attractive, but had refused to even think about. Until now, when he was realizing that it wasn’t just attraction, that she was truly very beautiful.

He could see the tiny scars on her neck, from that man’s nails as he threatened to tear her throat out, and the scar from earlier, before he met her. He could see her lashes in the dim light, and soft glow of her skin, and dark red of her hair, and she was beautiful, and he didn't know how to stop himself from thinking it.

Her laughter died down slightly, as she opened her eyes, the dim light making the green look darker than usual, meeting his own. Her smile didn’t fade completely, but her expression changed as she looked up at him, and he wasn't sure what it meant.

His voice felt stuck in his throat, and he decided to act quickly. Snatching the scissors out of her hand, he scrambled up and away from her. She sat up slowly. Bucky tried not to stare at her.

"You win," she said. "I won't cut off all your hair."

He flipped the scissors easily in his hand, sliding them into his pocket and giving her a triumphant smirk as he left the room, pausing only to toss back a brief "Thank you."

It felt like a weight had been temporarily lifted in his chest. 

Now began the countdown before it came crashing down again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty Cara-centric chapter here, delving more into her past. Hope that doesn't bother anyone, but we do see Bucky actually feeling almost happy for once, and that makes me happy.
> 
> Freakshow not inspired by American Horror Story, or the DC villian group of the same name. I was just messing around with titles, and that one simply clicked.


	14. Pt 1. For Reasons Wretched And Divine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part One of "For Reasons Wretched and Divine, She's Gonna Save Me, And Lord, She Found Me Just In Time"
> 
> The chapter title inspired by Hozier's Jackie And Wilson.

Bucky sat up quickly, breathing heavily with one thought running through his mind.

_Where am I?_

He did a quick check, trying to make sure that he wasn't immediate danger. After he was sure of that, he did a quick check to look at his surroundings. He was in a dark room, legs tangled in bedsheets. Before he had woken up, he had been in a smaller one, more like a table, and he hadn't been able to move his arms, or move anything really. Hadn't been able to do anything except scream.  _My name is Bucky,_  he had been thinking.  _My name is James Buchanan Barnes, and I will not forget again. They won't make me. They cannot make me._

The scene in his mind had switched, and small child, a girl, he wasn't sure how old, had been looking up at him with expressionless eyes, as bodiless words floated around him giving him orders to deliver her safely to a specified spot, that they were being paid well for this, and that if he should fail, there would be consequences. Her wrist was hand roughly to him, and he took it, and she still didn't react....

The scene then changed again, and he was staring through the scope of a rifle, looking at a car as it came speeding passed, aiming at the tires. He knew the targets names. Howard and Maria Stark. They had a child, but he didn't care about that. He didn't care. He pulled the trigger. The screeching of wheels, and the sound of crashing, grating metal, as he rose from his perch to finish the job, made him wake up.

He stumbled out of the bed, reaching for the notebook that he had felt there at the beginning of the night, knowing this would happen.

He began to scribble his name on the paper, along with whatever details he could remember.

_1\. My name is Bucky Barnes. Unknown room, can't move arms, pain, lots of pain, most likely memory, no one else hurt, no date._

_2\. Had to protect a child. Name unknown. Succeeded. No date._

_3\. The Starks. Two dead. Succeede-_

He shut his eyes, unable to finish. He had killed them, and their little boy was going to have to grow up without them. The worst part? He had known Howard. Before, in the war. The man had risked his life flying out Steve to save his sorry ass, and if he hadn't, he'd have been able to see his son grow up. Bucky only knew this based off what he read, and he knew this was a good thing, having no other memories of the man. He didn't think that he could bear the guilt of killing another friend.

He breathing became shallower.   
Carefully, he ran though the things he knew. He was in Cara's home. He was out of his nightmare. He was okay. Taking another deep breath, he let his eyes drift to where the gun lay next to his pillow. It was there. Just in case it was not just a dream.

He sighed, standing up, and picked up the gun, holding it for a moment before putting it away in the drawer, knowing he was not going to able to fall back asleep tonight. Walking silently through the hall, he paused in the hall, in front of Cara's door. It was open a crack, still dark. She was still asleep. He was glad he hadn't woken her up again. She had her own problems to deal with. She didn't need to be burdened with taking care of him too.

He leaned against the wall for a moment. A small part of him wondered if she would still be this kind to him if she knew what he'd done. If she knew about the Starks, and the countless other faceless victims. If she knew about who he had worked for. What he had done.   
He wouldn't. He'd hate himself. He'd wouldn't forgive himself for the lying, or the past crimes. He hadn't forgiven himself.

He wondered if he would forgive someone else, if they were in his shoes, and shook his slightly. Anyone who worked for SHIELD, HYDRA. They were all the same to him. They were all his enemies. Killers, and liars, and he hated them all. He wasn't sure if that was because he was afraid of them, or if he didn't trust them, or both, but he knew that this hatred was the only thing keeping him almost sane.

"You're still having nightmares, aren't you?" He jumped, spinning around. Cara stared at him from her door. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't scare me."

"You know, talking about them really does help," she said, ignoring him, and walking closer. For a moment, he was tempted... He was tempted to tell her everything, from the childhood he couldn't remember, to the fall, to all the lives he took, to the man he was now, whoever that was.

And then he remembered. He didn't want to scare her off. He didn't want her to run away from him, where he couldn't protect her...

He didn't want to lose her.

So, he swallowed his words, and turned away from her, as her hand touched his back. He felt the heat from her fingers burning through his shirt, on his spine, like flames flickering from branch to branch in a wildfire, consuming everything in it's path. He shuddered, as for some reason, some other words came back to him.

_"Do you know the story of the Firebird?"_

He turned slightly to look down at her, her green eyes peering up, face was etched with concern. She wasn't simply curious about his past, and the dreams. It was like she honestly cared about him, and wanted him to feel better. Wanted him to be okay.

_"The Wolf, being a creature of winter, did not like the warmth."_

He wasn't sure just how he felt about her caring about him. He sure as hell didn't deserve it, and it was a dangerous line to walk that might lead to him caring about her back. If it wasn't too late.

_"Her hair is quite the shade of red. Like flames, don't you think?_ _"_

She was like fire. Warmth and protection and beauty. He was like ice. Cold and bitter and destructive, and there was no way for them ever to work out together, without mutually assured destruction.

"We should go running," she said suddenly, breaking his train of thought. She seemed to do this whenever she she wanted to distract him from something bad, say something quickly to take his mind off his thoughts. He appreciated the effort. "You told me I could go running with you."

"I said if you can keep up," he said. He leaned against the wall, looking down at her, feeling something that felt almost like a smile play at his lips. "Can you?"

"Careful, Barnes," she said, raising an eyebrow. "That's almost flirting."

You used to be good at that, you know, said a small voice in the back of his mind. Now say something smart. Unfortunately, he was out of practice in this particular field, and turned away quickly, looking at the ground, and not saying anything at all.

"Meet me out here in five minutes," he said quickly, trying to ignore how his face suddenly felt hot, and her small smirk, as she clearly noting his reaction, filing it away for later. He turned quickly away. "And only if you can keep up."

* * *

"You're not keeping up," Bucky said, from behind her, as he passed her for what felt like the hundredth time. They had only been running for about twenty minutes, and she already felt exhausted. She glared at him, after jumping slightly. He made no noise whenever he approached, always completely silent. She could understand why that was, assassins having to be quiet and all, but it still annoyed her.

"Stop... Doing... That..." She hissed, He smirked at her, turning so he was running backwards, looking like he could probably do this for hours. Now that just wasn't fair. This was obviously payback for her flirting comment this morning.

"Do you need a break?" he said.

"No," she snapped.

"You look tired."

"I'm just tired... of your com... comments," she gasped, as she slowed down, leaning against the trunk of the nearest tree, bracing her hands on her knees. They had made it to Central Park in what felt record time, while she wasn't out of shape, quite the opposite in fact, she was no super soldier. He leaned next to her, with that same stupid smirk on his stupid face.

"Ready to go back?"

"I thought you... wanted to run," she said finally managing to catch her breath again.

"What you were doing was not running," he said. "That was what fish do when you take them out of water."

"You're snarky today," she said, sinking slowly to the ground. He sat next to her, eyes darting around as he kept an eye on all the people passing. "Are you in a good mood or something?"

He shrugged. "Usually, I'm alone....But I'm not. Right now."

"Is this your way of saying that you like having me around?"

"I like you better than being alone."

"That's something, I guess."

She leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling him tense. She ignored that.

"Have you lived here before?"

"What?" He said distractedly, glancing at her for a moment, before his eyes drifted back to a group of kids passing, assessing whether they were a threat.

"Have you live here? In New York?"

He paused. "Brooklyn. Before I joined the army."

She feigned ignorance. "You're in the army?"

"Was."

"Oh," she said. She expected them the conversation to stop there, but after a moment of silence, he spoke up again suddenly.

"I remember this time that there was a duststorm... Here in New York, when I was seventeen," he said, speaking slowly, staring off into space, with a distant expression on his face. "My friend... He had always had trouble breathing before, but this was enough to make everyone sick. Pneumonia or somethin'. His mom, she was still alive, didn't let him out of the house, but it didn't help, he just kept getting sicker and sicker. I stayed with him, tried to keep him company, but I though he was gonna die. He... Didn't. He didn't, but it's a miracle. His mom... She wasn't as lucky. She never really got over it."  
He broke off suddenly, looking down to where she was leaning on his shoulder, listening to everything he was saying, with bright eyes, completely silent, letting him process the memory.

"Is... Is he alright now? You're friend?"

Bucky shrugged. "I don't know."

"Why not?"

"Don't ask that. Please."

"Okay."

They both fell silent, as the park slowly began to get more and more crowded. As she rested her head on his shoulder she could feel him tense with every new person that passed. She remembered why she had taken him in. Protect him. Use him as a mission. Use him to feel like she still had a purpose. Reasons wretched and divine. Carefully, she stood up, and he looked up at her.

"Let's get back," she said. "I want to go out to lunch later, and you said I look like a dying fish."

"No. I didn't. I said you ran like one."  
She extended her hand, and he slowly took it, letting her pull her to his feet.

"Like that's any better."

"Cara," he said, his expression serious and honest. "You don't look like a dying fish." She resisted the urge to laugh, or hug him. She instead, against all common sense, kept her hand in his for a moment longer than necessary. His skin was rough and calloused from years of hand to hand combat and distant assassinations, but warm, keeping hers in a strong grip that made her feel like he had her back. That she could trust him.

She let it go quickly, trying to banish all those thoughts out of her head. All this trusting and wanting to protect him, and she might lose sight of her objective.

He was just a mission.

Just a mission.

Just a mission.

Funny how the more you repeat words, the more they lose their impact.


	15. Pt 2. She's Gonna Save Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of "For Reasons Wretched and Divine, She's Gonna Save Me, And Lord, She Found Me Just In Time"
> 
> I remember writing this way back in March, when Mumford and Sons first released Believe, so I'm going to say that that's what the song for this chapter is, even if I'm named after a Hozier song. 
> 
> I set up a ton of plot points here, so it seems a little rushed or crowded at times. Oh well. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter include some language.

Bucky was waiting for her outside her door when she walked out of her room, making her jump slightly as she very nearly ran into him.

She had told him when they got back, that they would be going out to lunch as soon as she got ready, and it was clear he took it almost literally.

"Ready?"

He nodded, turning away. She glanced at the outfit he wore. The green jacket she had bought for him, glove on his left hand, so that no metal showed. His baseball cap was crumpled in his hand.

"Where are we going?" He said, not looking back at her as he walked.

"No idea," she said. "I just planned to walked around until we saw something we like."

"We," he said quietly.

"Yeah... Do you not want to be a 'we'?"

"No, it's just... Been awhile since anyone has ever given me that choice. Bit different from orders from superiors."

She blinked, stopping in her tracks. That was about as he had ever come to admitting his past to her. Before she could react, he turned back to her.

"Well? Are you coming?"

She gave a wordless nod, and sped up, so that she was beside him as they walked through the front door. As much as she tried to ignore it, it felt good walking beside him. She felt like she had a partner again, as irrational as that was. Her and Bucky weren't partners, not in the way that she was used to. To be a partner, you had to know all their little secrets, had to be an equal, with mutual trust. What she had with Bucky was something much more twisted.

The sun was shining when they walked out, the late spring air warm, the wind rustling slightly, picking up pieces of trash and paper, along with noise that seemed to be everywhere. Bucky pulled the cap down onto his head, not making eye contact with anyone that passed them, both of them simply becoming a couple of faces in a crowd of others going out to find cabs, or lunch, meeting up with old friends in the streets. A bus with Stark's face on it passed them, advertising something or another. Bucky glanced at it, making some connection, and looked away quickly.

After a few minutes, she stopped, nudging him slightly, and pointing to a small restaurant, with tables outside. He shrugged in his usual noncommittal way, and they made their way over to it.

They managed to get an outdoor table, separated from the sidewalk by a rope, a large red umbrella hanging over them. Their waitress, introducing herself as Maia, was a young woman who couldn't be older than eighteen, smiling politely, but seeming a little overwhelmed with the midday rush (in particular a rowdy group a few tables away from them who kept calling her back, clearly enjoying tormenting the poor thing). Cara had glanced at the menu, ordering the most basic item quickly, trying to add less stress to her job. Bucky, seeing what she was doing, immediately said the same thing, even managing to give the poor girl a little encouraging smile. It made Cara's heart beat slightly faster. He was getting better. Not glaring at strangers, smiling at strangers, speaking civilly to strangers. He was getting better.

"That was nice," he said, after a few moments. "Making her life easier."

"You did it too."

"I don't know if I would've if you weren't here."

"Sure you would."

"Well, I wouldn't be here at all. I'd probably be hitchhiking or something still."

"That was weeks ago, Barnes."

"Exactly," he said seriously. 

She rolled her eyes. "The longer I know you, the more dramatic you get."

He looked down, picking at the edge of the tablecloth, but she could see that he wasn't frowning at it. He even seemed to be enjoying himself. 

The girl came with their food, a sandwich and salad for each of them. Just as she set it down, the loudest man at the other table, a broad shouldered, blonde man, looking like he was barely out of college, began to laugh, before calling out-

"Hey, stupid! You messed up my order. Come back here, and fix it!"

The rest of the group laughed with him.

She flinched, seeming to wither slightly, walking over dejectedly. Bucky's face hardened, hand clenching into a fist.

"Bucky," Cara warned quietly.

"They're treating her like shit! She's just a kid!"

Cara picked at her salad, glaring into it. She hated them for how they were treating the girl, but if Bucky confronted them, he'd risk revealing his identity. And what could happen to him was much, much worse. If she confronted them, then Bucky would step in, and both their covers might be blown... He would find out who she was. The thought terrified her.

"I know, but what do you want to do? Go over and fight them all, right here?"

"If they leave her alone, then yeah."

"We can be subtle about it," she said. The girl passed again, and Cara caught her arm.

"Listen, I'm sorry to have to bother you," she said apologetically. "But do you think you can grab the manager for me? I'm really, really sorry to have to have to do this to you."

"Of course," the girl said weakly, scurrying off. The group laughed again as she passed, making her flinch, Bucky took a deep breath, before standing up, knocking his chair back.

"I'm going to go see if I can pay early," he said, clearly just needing to get away for a moment.

"You don't have to-"

"Yeah, I do," he said. "You've done enough for me. I'm paying for this."

He stalked off, just as the manager walked over. "Hello, ma'am. You asked to see me?"

"Yes, it's just that table over there is harassing your employee, and disturbing us all. Is there anything you can do?"

"I'll go talk to them."

She nodded gratefully, letting her eyes drift to Bucky, who had manage to pay, and was getting distracted by the television on the wall, where the history of SHIELD was being talked about. Howard Stark face flashed on screen, and she swore she saw him stiffen. She watched him for a few seconds, before she shook her head quickly, realizing she had been staring.

"Excuse me," a voice said from next to her. "You work at the bookstore, don't you?" She looked up to see the man who had talked to her at the bookstore a few days ago, (who had been very openly flirting with her). He was probably late twenties, early thirties, with light brown hair, and eyes so brown they looked black. He about as tall as Bucky, and about the same build as well. She nodded slowly, smiling pleasantly.

"I never caught your name," he said. "I'm Lewis."

"Cara," she said. He flashed her a smile.

"Nice to finally meet you Cara," he paused. "Can I just say, you are very pretty?"

She turned her eyes away, smiling with polite embarrassment. "Thank you, Lewis," she said, looking back up him.

"Listen, I've been trying to get up the courage to ask you this, and then I saw you here, and I... It's okay if you say no, but I just wanted to try... If you wanted to go out sometime, I'd love to get to know you better," he said, blushing slightly, handing her a piece of paper. She paused, looking at the number he had scrawled on it.

"I'll think about it," she said, the words sticking in the back of her throat, feeling insanely guilty for some reason. He grinned, and ran off, pausing only to wave as he disappeared into the crowds. She watched him, before glancing at the number in her hand, written in red ink, scrawled quickly onto a piece of scratch paper.

"You know what, that's fucking bullshit!"

Cara looked up at the source of the noise, the stupid leader of the stupid table, who was glaring up at the manager. She glanced at Bucky, who made eye contact with her, and imediatly began to make his way over, carefully picking through the bustling tables, trying not to touch anyone.

It turned out to be in vain however, as the yelling man stood up suddenly, knocking into him. Bucky stepped back sharply, and she watched his hand fly to his side, where she knew he kept a knife. She rose quickly as well, seeing that this could end very badly.

"What were you're fucking going!" the man snapped, turning away from the manager to face him. Bucky simply stared at him, his face slowly emptying of any emotion, although flickering under the surface was a deadly rage. Yup. This could end very, very badly. She began making her way over. "What? Not going to fucking apologize?"

"You ran into me," Bucky said, his jaw clenched. "I am not going to apologize for that."

The man pushed his shoulder. "Yeah, you are."

Cara watched Bucky tense, fingers twitching, as she finally reached him, slipping her arms into the crook of his elbow, eyes flicking between him and the other man.

"Hey. I was looking for you. Are you ready to go?" He looked down at her, gaze softening, the murderous expression fading ever so slightly.

"Yes," he said. She lead him away, not looking back as the man yelled at them both.

"Oh, yeah. Run. Run away, hide behind a fucking whore."

Bucky stopped sharply, turning around, and taking a few steps forward before Cara managed to stop him.

"Say that again," he said, raising his voice slightly. "Say that one more time."

"Bucky," she whispered, stepping in front of him, placing her hands on his chest. His heart was beating very fast beneath her fingers. He wrapped his hands loosely around the wrists, careful not to hurt her, lightly trying to push her behind him. She didn't move

"I won't let him call you that, Cara," he said.

"Look, we're never going to see him again. We're never going to see him again, it doesn't matter, he's just being an idiot. Let's please just go. Before things get out of control."

The man began to laugh, clearly enjoying the response his words were having on them, as he tried to stupidly goad Bucky into a fight. "She's a little slut, and you're a goddamned coward-"

Cara spun around, managing to punch him square in the face, knocking him to the ground. The crowd that she hadn't notice staring at them them gave a collective gasp. She turned quickly back to Bucky, who was looking at her in awe, like he was going to kiss her or start laughing or both. She pushed him slightly towards the door, slipping her hand into his.

"We really need to go now," she whispered. He nodded, snapping out of whatever daze he was in, as they both practically ran to the door, hand in hand. They didn't slow when they were outside, and in fact, Bucky ran faster, pulling her behind him. When she caught sight of his face, she found that he was grinning. Not a pained, half smile, or a quiet smirk, but a full out grin. It made him look years younger. It made her smile too. After a few blocks, he stopped suddenly, catching her as she almost crashed into him. Just like when they first met, hand on her shoulders. They fell to her waist, as he lifted her up, spinning her around.

"Did you see his face?" He said. "The bastard never saw it coming."

Cara smiled at him, shaking out her fist. "You don't have to look so happy about the fact I hurt my hand on his face."

His expression almost immediately became serious again, although the light in his eyes didn't dull. He gently inspected the bruises forming on her knuckles.

"That was a good punch," he commented.

"Not my best."

"I'd hate to be on the receiving end of that one."

"Yeah. You would," she said, gently hitting him on the shoulder with a closed fist. He paused a moment before speaking again.

"Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?" She knew very well what he was talking about.

"Hit him... You said he was being an idiot. You said to leave it alone."

"He was. But he was being a loud one," she said, and then she paused before speaking again. "He called you a coward. I don't want anyone ever thinking that about you."

_If he knew who your were, who you are, how you died, what you've done, what you've been through, she thought. He would never have said it._

"He was calling you names too."

She shrugged. "I've been called worse. It was nothing I couldn't handle. Anyways, he wasn't expecting that. It was funnier."

He shook his head. "Cara Fox," he murmured, looking like he wanted to add something else.

"Yes?"

"I... Nothing. Just... You're something else, you know that?"

He began to walk away, pulling her behind him, his hand holding hers gently, not trying to keep her there. If she wanted to pull away, she could.

She didn't. She didn't know why, but she still held onto him. He was getting better, and she... She was getting worse. Falling farther and farther into whatever she was feeling for him, and she was terrified she would never be able to find her way out again.

She still held onto him. 

She was falling, and she still held onto him.


	16. Pt 3. And Lord, She Found Me Just In Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of "For Reasons Wretched and Divine, She's Gonna Save Me, And Lord, She Found Me Just In Time"

"Bucky," Cara said suddenly, as they approached the doors of the apartment.

He looked down at her. "Yeah?"

"There's something I need to do. I'll meet you upstairs."

She let go of his hand, pushing gently past him.

"You okay?" he said, stepping forward to grab her shoulder, before letting his hand drop back to his side quickly. She glanced back, smiling brightly, although something flickered in her eyes.

"Perfectly fine. I'll meet you up there in a second," she said. He nodded slowly, watching her walk off. Something had changed in her walk. It seemed almost more natural than her usual gait, more determined, light and lithe. More dangerous.

As she disappeared, he slipped away himself, not quite being able to shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

* * *

One hour, thirty six minutes was how long it took before he started to really worry. For one hour, thirty six minutes, he had sat in his room, stood by the door, lay on the couch, leaned against the counter, and had practically paced a hole in the floor in the hall. His head was beginning to hurt slightly, and there was still no sign of her. After one hour and thirty six minutes, he began to question if being with Cara was starting to do something to his sanity.

He tried telling himself that when she walked back in, she'd make fun of him for worrying so much, that she could take care of herself, and he'd tell her that he knew that, that that's what he thought too, but bad things can happen to anyone.

At one hour, fifty one minutes, he began to panic, calling her twice. She didn't answer, it going straight to her cheery voice mail asking to leave a message.

At two hours, nine minutes, he went out looking for her. Walking in the same direction she had, he occasionally asked around, and no one had seen her. It was like she had disappeared off the face of the planet. And the fact that _he_ couldn't find her was not a good sign.

When it started to get dark, (seven hours, forty two minutes since he had last seen her), he decided to check the apartment. Maybe he had missed her. And his search of the city brought up nothing. It was like she was a ghost.

As he opened the door, he cautiously called out. "Cara?"

No answer. Again. His stomach dropped. Running his hand through his hair, he began to look in every room, making sure no one was waiting for him. As he pushed open the door to her room, scanning it for anything unusual, and finding nothing. 

Nothing was out of place. She wasn't here. No one was.

He leaned against the wall, sinking slowly to the ground. If she wasn't home by midnight, he'd go back out. He wasn't losing her. He wasn't going to let anyone take her away from him. He couldn't lose her. Too much had been taken from him already.

None of this was helping his head, which was growing worse and worse by the minute. Light danced at the bottom of his line of vision. He wasn't sure what was causing it. He had never gotten sick when he was with HYDRA, at least not that he could remember. He didn't think he had been sick since he'd gotten the bastardized version of the serum.

Must be the stress.

He heard the sound of the door flew open suddenly, and he scrambled to his feet, going silently towards the noise.

"Cara?"

He rounded the corner, and saw her struggling with the keys in the door, yanking them out and throwing them onto the table beside her, kicking the door shut with her foot. She didn't look at him as she tried to pass him, limping slightly, head down. "Cara!"

She stopped as he grabbed her arms, spinning her so she faced him. She looked up at him slowly. One eye was black, her lip split, and there suspiciously finger shaped bruises on her throat. His heart began to race. She was hurt. Someone had hurt her. He knew those bruises. They came from fists. She was hurt, and someone had done it to her on purpose. His heard the metal in his arm creek slightly as he tensed.

"What happened?" he said quietly, running his thumb lightly over her cheek.

"I got jumped, and I fought back," she said. He released a small breath.

"Where?"

"A few blocks away..." she said vaguely.

"They're dead," he hissed. "They're dead!" He stepped back, grabbing his jacket, and beginning to shrug it on. She caught his wrist.

"Bucky, it's too late. They're gone."

"I'll find them," he snapped, not caring that he was directed his rage at her. Someone was going to pay for this. He spun around yanking out of her grasp violently.

"Bucky, please! Stop!"

He paused, glancing back at her. She looked exhausted, arms crossed around her middle, swaying slightly on her feet. The burning rage in his chest died down.

"How bad are you hurt?" his voice sounded cold and robotic to his own ears.

"I don't know."

"That's not a good enough answer. _How bad are you hurt?_ "

"Not bad."

"You're gone for hours, and you say 'not bad'?"

"You should see them," she said, giving him a weak, grim smile. He stared at her a second, putting down his jacket, exhaling slowly as he moved out of the hallway, towards the kitchen, grabbing her hand as he passed, pulling her with him.

"Sit there," he said, nodding at the counter. She did so, quietly watching him grab a dishcloth, and pulling ice from the freezer, wrapping it carefully.

She was still silent as he stepped in front of her, holding the makeshift ice pack to the bruise under her eye. She flinched slightly at the sudden cold, hand flying up to land on the back of his. A sudden feeling of horrible guilt rose in him. She was hurting because he had failed his mission. Wasn't the entire reason he was staying with her to make sure that she was safe?

"I should have been there," he murmured, more to himself than her.

"It's not your job to protect me," she said, shutting her eyes, leaning into his touch.

"Doesn't mean I don't want to try. I should have been with you. I'm sorry." Her hand tightened around his fingers.

"Don't do that to yourself. I told you to go up without me."

He hummed a dull response, falling silent. She reached over, eyes still shut holding onto his shoulder.

"I was worried," he said suddenly, surprising himself. "You were gone for hours, and I should have gone looking for you sooner."

"No. You would have gotten involved. You might have gotten hurt."

"What if it had been worse?" His voice began to rise. "What if you hadn't fought back, or there were too many, or they were HYD- They were more dangerous? Cara, I could have lost you!"

He put the ice down, bracing his hands on the counter on either side of her, looking at the floor.

"After everything else, I don't think I could stand losing you too."

The cold touch of her hand on his cheek made him look up, meeting her gaze. "You're not losing me. I'm not going anywhere."

She was so close to him, faces centimeters apart. He hesitated a moment, leaning forward, closing the distance between them, lips just about to touch as he put his hand on her waist. She winced slightly, enough to make him lean sharply back, as she lifted up the hem of her shirt, where another bruise was forming just below her ribs. He gave another small sigh, as she let it fall back down.

"What the hell am I going to do with you?" he said, stepping back, and shaking his head.

"Oh, I'm sure you can think of something," she quipped darkly, hopping off the counter, still clutching the ice. She wasn't wrong. He could think of several things, but none of them seemed quite appropriate for what was happening. He settled for shaking his head, and looking away from her.

"Go to bed, Fox. You're exhausted."

"That just sounds patronizing."

"Sorry. I'm tired. I have a headache. It's been a long day."

They walked down the hall, side by side. She was still keeping her weight off her right side. "Yeah. It was."

They stopped in front of her door, facing each other. Her green eyes peered up at him, still bright despite the fact she looked like hell. They weren't as close as they had been in the kitchen, and whatever had passed between them was unfortunately gone. It was probably for the best. She wouldn't want someone like him. She deserved someone good, not the walking human wreckage he was. Someone who hadn't killed more people who he could remember. Who didn't have a nightmare for a past, and could tell her the truth about who he was.

She honestly deserved that, but he ignored it. In that second, he ignored everything, and strengthened his resolve, leaning down and kissing her cheek as lightly as he possibly could. Before he could see her reaction, the inevitable rejection or acceptance, both of which he dreaded, he pulled away, practically running to his room, almost slamming his door. He froze, wondering what the hell he had been thinking. That was not a good idea. God only knows what would have happened if he actually kissed her. And yet somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but feel elated. He was sure he had felt like this before... Before it all gone to hell.

Sitting down on his bed, he put his head in his hands, and groaned.

Yeah.

None of this was helping with his headache.

* * *

Cara stared at her self in the mirror, as she tried to clean herself up the best she could. She hadn't been entirely honest with Bucky.

She had been jumped. And she had fought back... But there was a little bit more to it than that.

_Cara had noticed him when Bucky had spun her around. He hadn't been to busy focusing on her to notice the man watching them. Not vaguely amused or offended by his obvious act of affection, but like a hawk watching mice. He didn't look like the other man who had followed them, but was wearing a black shirt, dark jeans and jacket, talking enthusiastically on his phone. But watching them. When he kept following them, she knew what she had to do. As they approached the doors of their building, Cara gave Bucky a smile, telling him to go on up._

_And then she had slipped into angry spy who did not appreciate being tailed mode._

_The man followed her, as she knew he assumed she would be an easier target, and possible leverage against the Winter Soldier. She was certainly going to prove him wrong._

_She ducked into an alley, making sure he had to speed up to catch her, and as he rounded the corner sharply, she made her move, lashing out with her feet and tripping him. He stumbled, spinning around, and hitting her hard in the face as he tried to catch himself. She gave him a solid punch to the jaw, knocking a man to the ground for the second time that day._

_He reached for a gun at his side, which she kicked out of his hand, and picked it up, pointing it at his head._

_"Who are you?" she said. He glared up at her, and then something flashed in his eyes, a look of smug triumph as a something hard hit her head, making everything go dark._

* * *

 

_She woke up, her face covered by something heavy. Her wrists were pressed tightly together, bound with a plastic tie, upper arms digging into the back of a hard chair. She heard murmuring somewhere else in the room, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't catch their words. Quietly, she to try and break the seal on them. This wasn't her first time in a situation like this, and it probably wouldn't be her last._

_After a few minutes, the voices stopped. Footsteps approached. She decided to wait until she had a visual on the room before she made her move._

_The bag was ripped off violently. She blinked a few times, squinting under the harsh sudden, fluorescent light._

_There were two of them, looking similar enough to be twins, with red hair and dark eyes. The one holding the bag smiled down at her. One was the one wearing the black shirt, the other a white. White Shirt stood by a table, where a gun, an old polaroid camera, and several knives. He had one in his hand, wiping the steel surface with stained rag._

_"You awake, sweetheart?" The one near her said. She glared at him defiantly. "You have a solid hook, I'll give you that."_

_"What do you want?" she said, her voice shaking. She was doing a wonderful job of trying to act afraid while acting brave, if she did say so herself. She had forgotten how addicting this was, the adrenaline of possible death, and the ecstasy of becoming another person. Maybe she wasn't lying to Bucky as much as she thought she was. Maybe Cara Fox really was the true version of her. Because this. This was becoming truly another person, so that no one would ever see her. This was what she both hated and loved._

_He knelt in front of her. The other man smirked, continuing to clean the knife, and spinning it lightly on the table._

_"We want him," he said, resting his hand on her knee. "I know you know that. I know you know he's not normal. And you're going to sit here, all pretty while we take a picture to send to him. Then he'll find you and you'll be nice and together, and we'll get our money, and everyone will be happy."_

_She cast a terrified look down, her lip trembling. "Are you going to hurt him?"_

_"If he fights. You'll convince him not to, right?"_

_She nodded slowly, letting tears form in her eyes, turning away. He should up, moving behind her, and grabbing her chin, lifting her head up. White Shirt, still playing with the knife tossed it over, picking up a camera. Black Shirt caught it easily. She tensed, ready to break out at any second. The cold blade touched her neck, and his other hand slipped into her hair, pulling her head back sharply._

_"Don't move. You move, and I might cut you. That would ruin the picture, wouldn't it?"_

_White Shirt raised the camera, smiling slightly, as the man behind her spoke._

_"Now, look sufficiently terrified, and say cheese!"_

_The telltale click sounded after the flash, and the knife dropped from her neck, and he moved back to kneel in front of her._

_"You look scared. Don't worry, love. You'll be fine as long your boyfriend doesn't make too much trouble."_

_"How did you find us?"_

_He chuckled. "Accident, really, sweetheart. Just out and about and happened to recognize your boyfriend from the reward posters."_

_There. That was what she needed. They just bounty hunters. Not too dangerous. Her eyes snapped open as she lashed out with her feet, catching his neck, and twisting til she heard a snap. He fell back, and the other man lunged forward. Snapping the restraints, she ducked out of reach, driving forwards the table with the weapons. Her hand barely brushed the handle of a gun, when someone tackled her, throwing her to the ground. She cried out when her shoulder collided with the ground. She was aware of the gun clattering beside her._

_She looked up to see the second man, bring his foot back against her side, looking absolutely murderous, fist colliding with her face, once, twice, before they closed tightly around her neck, thumbs pressing on her trachea. She began to cough, as the horrible sinking feeling of panic invaded her thoughts. She tried to pry his fingers off, but he simply squeezed tighter._

_"You killed him!" He screeched. "You killed him, you killed him!"_

_Dark spots danced behind her eyes, and she managed to get into a position where she could kick up, into his chest, and off of her. He grunted in surprise, letting her go. Gasping, she dove to the side, grabbing the weapon, and pointing it at him, still lying on the floor._

_"Who else knows about us?" she said, still fighting for breath, struggling to her feet. He looked up at her, eyes dark, hatred burning in them. "Who. Else. Knows. About. Us?" When he still didn't answer, she pointed it sharply at his knee, pulling the trigger._

_The deafening sound of the shot, quickly followed by his scream echoed around the small room._

_"I won't let any of you take him away from me! Who's coming for us?"_

_"Do you think we're stupid?" he groaned through clenched teeth. "Let some HYDRA dream team come get you after we give away your location, and not get the reward?"_

_"How are they transmitting the information?"_

_"Honey, in my business, you learn not to ask questions. I get a call with an amount of money and a face, and I do it."_

_She took another deep breath, before pointing it back at him again. he met her eyes, and she knew that if she didn't kill him, he'd come back for her. He'd make her pay. He'd give away Bucky's position to everyone, and make sure that she payed for killing the other man. Without another second's hesitation, she pulled the trigger._

_Everything fell silent, and she lay there, alone in a room with two corpses. She shut her eyes, trying to figure out what to do. Picking up her phone off the table, she scrolled through the names, before her eyes landed on Sybil's._

_As it rang, she walked over to the fallen Polaroid photo, picking it up._

_"Sybil," she hissed. "I swear if you don't pick up, I'll-"_

_"Hello, Sybil's Pizza delivery, except not to Tony Stark, cause he's an ass," was the upbeat answer._

_"Sybil, I need you to call someone."_

_"Cara? What? Why? And that was rude, you didn't even say hi. I know you have a phone, you're calling me on it. Is this one of those prank games? Am I going to prank call Darcy? Or Clint? Or New Guy?"_

_"Listen. Call Claire. I have a situation."_

_"Like Fixer Claire, and her gang? The "dead people" people?"_

_"Yes. Don't ask where I am, trace this. Trace this now."_

_"Cara, did you kill someone."_

_"Would I be calling you to call up a cleaning crew because I didn't?"_

_"Good point. I have your signal. Be gone by the time they're there, and they'll never know it was you."_

_"Thanks."_

_"Cara, are you okay?"_

_"I'll tell you all about this later. I promise."_

_"I'll hold you to that. Talk to you later."_

_Cara hung up without another word, watching the picture finish forming. She didn't look terrified. She didn't look like anyone would with a knife to their neck. She didn't look like Cara Fox. In that moment, she was back to being Agent Fletcher. empty. Dead. Someone who didn't care about anything. Putting it away in her pocket, she began to limp out of the building, beginning the long walk back._

So, there she stood, staring at herself in the mirror. Bucky had looked like a wreck when finally managed to get back, and she had looked much worse. And then... He made it very clear about how he felt about her. He cared about her. And she cared about him. But no matter how much she wanted it to, she couldn't let it go any farther. That was for normal people.

Pulling the picture out of her pocket, she put it on the counter. She couldn't afford to be normal. To think like a civilian, to fall in love with him. Today had proved that. SHe need to bury both their feelings. She need him to stop caring about her like that. What she need was a distraction.

Something caught her eye. A piece of paper stuck to the back of the picture. Pulling it off, she saw the scrawled red numbers. A distraction. She lifted her eyes to look in the mirror, staring at herself, and it was then she knew exactly what she was going to have to do.

She was going to have to break his heart.

Walking out to her bed, she sat down, burying her face in her hands. For some reason, it still made her chest ache to think about having to do this to him. And her. The selfish part reminded her of that.

And it was then, she also knew for.

If she did this, she wasn't just going to hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sister insisted I name the dead people cleaner uppers after her. (That conversation was fun. "Hey. What should I call the people who clean up dead people for spies?" "Name them after me." "What?" "NAME. IT. AFTER. ME. And say this in your author note!")


	17. Of Deceit And Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, while writing this, I listened to Mumford and Sons (as usual) but more specifically Snake Eyes. I wrote this way back in April when that song came out.

Walking to and from work the next day had been oddly quiet. Bucky seemed a little off, staring off into space for long periods of time, in his usual chair, not looking at her, or any of the others. His hand was shaking. She made a mental note to keep a close eye on it.

The next several days were quiet, as the bruises covering her body turned a sickly yellow color, before fading. Bucky made no attempt to address what happened, either part of it, although he refused to let her walk without him, seeming nervous whenever they did, not being subtle about the fact that he was looking for people following. He wandered off when they got to home, leaving her alone, to put into action the plan that would push him away.

She had sat there for what felt like hours after work. Making the call made her despise herself. Hearing Lewis's elated voice on the other end was even worse. She was doing this for Bucky, she told herself. It would be easier for him to let go. Easier for neither of them to be compromised. Easier for her to handle, to keep control of the situation. She was doing this for him. She would do anything for him.

She would do anything for her Soldier, except fall in love with him.

That would be asking for trouble.

~ ~ ~

Cara knocked on the door frame of Bucky's room, the door itself slightly ajar, He looked up from where he sat on the floor, idly flipping a knife in his hands while reading, the book lying on the ground. It was dark, the windows drawn, the only light coming from lamp in the corner, and filtering through the window. He smiled when he saw her, his face lighting up.

"Bucky," she said. The words almost physically hurt as they stuck in her throat. "I need to get ready, but I'm expecting someone. Can you answer the door if I'm not out in time?"

He nodded, standing up, leaving the knife and book on the ground. "Who is it?"

"It's going to be my... Date."

He looked vaguely confused. "Date?"

She took a deep breath. "I met a guy. And he asked me out to dinner. I said... I said yes."

Bucky's face fell, eyes dark. He didn't look at her. "Oh."

"He'll be here around seven. I'll try to be out by then, it's just-. I don't want you to be surprised- I just want you to know. If I'm not out when he gets here, just let him in."

He nodded slowly, face slowly closing off. She started to say something, but turned away.

 _I'm sorry,_ she wanted to say. _I'm sorry I'm doing this, I'm sorry I'm lying, I'm sorry I worked for SHIELD, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, if you knew who I was, you wouldn't even care, and I'm sorry for that too._ But she didn't say any of it. She kept silent. Like the fucking coward she was.

"Cara," he said. She looked at him, "I... You'll be careful, right? Call me if anything happens?"

He sounded almost like he did way back, when he was borderline terrified around her, but insisting he wanted to make sure she was okay.

She gave him a small smile. "Yeah. You don't need to worry about me."

He nodded, staring at her for a moment, looking a little lost, a little hurt, and a little uncertain. She turned, and left the room, feeling his eyes burning a hole in her back. And as she shut the door to her room, she was positive she heard the echoing sound of a knife being stabbed into the floor.

* * *

It was raining.

Of course it was.

Clouds had been gathering for the past hour, making his already dark room darker. The dull yellow glow of the streetlamps laid strange shadows on his wall, with the gleaming cuts of cars light striking even stranger patterns in the wall.

From the corner of the room where he sat, leaning against the wall, arm resting on his knee, he was almost completely hidden in shadows. For a moment, he wondered if he was ever supposed to leave this. Maybe in the shadows was where he belonged.

The room lit up suddenly, as lightning filled the sky. His eyes drifted towards the center of the room, where he had been sitting only moments before, and where the knife was now embedded in the floorboards. He hadn't meant to do that, ruin her floor. It was in his hand, and he was thinking, about Cara, about that look in her eye that she had tried so hard to cover up, like she was guilty and scared, looking like at that moment, not even her could control what he saw on her face, and then it was like times had sped up, and then there was stabbing pang of what felt like some form of jealousy, he wasn't quite sure, and then suddenly, the knife was in the floor, and he had pulled back into the corner.

He knew he was being irrational, he told himself. She was perfectly within her rights to have a relationship with someone else. They didn't really have a relationship, at least not like that.

It still hurt, and he wasn't really sure why. To be honest, everything had been hurting for the past few days. His head hadn't, if anything, the pressure seemed to be increasing. There were moments where he wasn't quite sure what had just happened, moments becoming blurs, and even worse, blank patches. There was times when the light felt too bright, and the usual noises of the city too loud. He was exhausted, and couldn't feel like he deal with anything else right now.

He shut his eyes, listening to the gentle sound of the rain hitting the glass of the window. It had been years since he had heard the rain. He in a landscape that was yellow with a wide gray sky, in a house along a single road. Someone had been taking to him then, as he looked out the window at the rain falling to ground. Someone had been saying something, and those words had been so important to him at the time, but now they were lost, possibly for good. He couldn't even remember the voice that said them, or the face, or even the context, and that hurt too.

A knock on the door broke through his thoughts. He stood up slowly, swaying slightly once he was on his feet, taking a deep breath, That be for Cara. Walking forward, he focused all his energy on not falling to his knees, his hands trembling. The exhaustion was deep in his bones, When he reached the door, he had to take a moment to remember to hide his hand in the pocket of his jacket, even though he had had the hindsight to put on a glove. His other one lingered on the cold handle as he took a deep breath, as he opened it.

The man was leaning in the door, and Bucky hated him almost immediately on sight. Maybe it was his smile, or his the look in his eyes, or the fact that he was going to be the one taking Cara out tonight. The man looked vaguely confused for a second, until Bucky found himself speaking.

"You're here for Cara," he said, grudgingly opening the door. Cara had asked him to let him in. She never asked him to like it.

The man nodded. "Yeah, I'm going to take her out," he said. Bucky simply gave him a steely glare, as the man coughed, extending his hand, stepping in. "I'm Lewis."

Bucky carefully shook his hand, trying not to let any of his emotions show. "Bucky."

The man... Lewis, looked at him, obviously uncomfortable. His eyes darted around the room.

"So," he said. "How do you know Cara?"

"We're... Friends."

"That it?"

Bucky crossed his arms. "Why do you want to know?"

Lewis raised his hands. "Look. I just want to make sure I'm not stepping on any toes here."

"She's my friend," Bucky said. "Nothing more, nothing less."

 _Lie,_  he thought.  _She's more than that. She's the only thing I have. And if you hurt her, nothing will be able to save you._

"Just as long as you don't mind."

"I don't mind anything. This is her choice, and I want whatever she does."

Something changed ever so slightly in the man's eyes, and Bucky felt it, right then. That this was not a good person. That he wasn't who he said he was. He didn't know how he knew, he didn't know if his judgement could be trusted, but he did know that Cara was going to be alone with this man, and that that idea put him on edge.

"Well," a voice said. Bucky turned around. Cara stood in the doorway, wearing a black dress, hair loose around her shoulders, and shit, she looked beautiful. It made the gaping pain in his chest feel even worse. "You two have met."

He felt himself immediately move towards her, standing at her side, partially blocking her from Lewis. He caught her hand as he looked down, not quite at her, leaning down, their fingers gently tangling together. He could tell she was surprised at the action, as she squeezed his hand slightly.

"Be careful," he said again, too quietly for Lewis to hear. "Don't scare me again. Please, be careful."

"You don't have to worry about me," she said, and she smiled at him, and he then he knew that she was going to be fine, that despite her being Cara, perfect Cara, that she was just as dangerous as either of the men in the room. Probably more so. He didn't know how he knew. But Cara was going to be fine.

He was pushing past her, her fingers still clinging to his. He was the one to let go, before he looked back. She was staring at him, hair swaying slightly, and he saw that she was worried, about him, and that she was scared, and he saw regret, and something else, something more dangerous, and deeper, and so much sadder than he had ever seen on her face before, and it was feeling more and more like he was running away as he stumbled into his room.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was falling into his bed, and it felt like every muscle in his body was burning from fatigue, and as he shut his eyes, he still saw her, looking at him, looking like she actually saw him, looking like she knew who he was and didn't care about it.

But she was gone. She didn't want him. He didn't blame her. He didn't want to  _be_  him.

He shut his eyes. It was too much, and he felt like his mind was going to explode.

He shut his eyes. The darkness of sleep claimed him, and he let himself revel in the peace and absolution it brought.

He shut his eyes, and when he opened them again, he would not know where he was.

* * *

When she left the apartment, it felt like she had left a part of herself up there. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't focus. She had made polite conversation all the way there, under his umbrella, laughing when she should, saying some witty comment here and there, but by the time she had sat down at the restaurant, she realized she couldn't use this for what it was. Some sort of twisted, painful distraction with someone who wasn't a threat. And why? Because of him. Because of Bucky Barnes. Because he had looked sick, he skin had felt too hot beneath her hand, because this wasn't working. He still looked at her like he cared too much.

She wondered if he was okay. His hands had been shaking on and off, and that had been what felt like a fever. He hadn't been acting like himself, but whenever she asked, he brushed off her concern and said he was fine. Maybe she should have taken him to a doctor.

It took her a second to realize Lewis had been saying something, waiting for a reply.

"Sorry," she said, letting a small, slightly embarrassed smile creep onto her face. "What?"

He laughed. "I asked if you had lived in New York long."

She shook her head. "Moved around a lot before this. Only been here a few months."

"Like it so far?"

"It's nice," she said. "What about you?"

"Fresh in from Starling City. Rogue, vigilante archers, terrorist attacks, murders. It was getting a bit much for me."

"So you came to New York?" She said, raising her eyebrows. "You know what happens around here?"

He shrugged. "At least Iron Man tells people he wears a mask. And what are the chances of another alien attack? Lightning never strikes the same place twice."

She gave a noncommittal noise. The chances were probably very high with her luck.

"Anyways, it was this or Gotham. No way I'd go to that hell hole."

She gave a small laugh. "You know, New York is just as bad. Hell's Kitchen is overrun with the mob, and-"

He cut her off. "Well, I'll just avoid those areas. Point is, New York is better than Starling City, or Gotham, or even DC. At least it isn't overrun with crazy archers, and SHIELD, and HYDRA and who knows what else."

"At least that," she said quietly. She didn't think that Clint was in town anymore, so maybe he was right about New York lacking in the "crazy archer" department. But he was definitely wrong about the SHIELD, and HYDRA. She wondered if Bucky counted as HYDRA, or if he was "who knows what else". He was a little bit of both, she decided. He had been HYDRA'S, but he hadn't been with them. He would never willingly claim allegiance to them. The old Bucky had fought them, and they twisted him into to something horrible. The new Bucky would keep fighting them if given the chance. She didn't doubt it.

Lewis had been talking again, and then he leaned across the table, and took her hand. It made her jump. She hadn't jumped when Bucky took hers. He didn't seem to notice, if anything, holding it tighter. She remembered Bucky's hand shaking beneath hers, the heat coming from his skin. She had to get back to him.

This wasn't working.

This wasn't distracting her from what it was she felt for Bucky, it was distracting her from her mission, protecting him. keeping him safe.

This wasn't working, and she needed to be back with him.

She stood up suddenly, yanking her hand her hand sharply back. Lewis stared at her, as she began to back away.

"I'm sorry, Lewis," she said, standing up. "I made a mistake. I can't do this anymore."

His smile began to fade. "What?"

She wrapped her arms around herself, beginning to walk away. "I'm sorry. This isn't fair to anyone. I like you, but this... This is not right. I'm sorry."

"Wait!" She heard him begin to follow her, as she stepped out into the rain, grabbing her arm tightly. Not like how Bucky did, like she was the last thing in the world, like he didn't want to hurt her, like he wouldn't let anyone else hurt her either. No, this grip was painful, nails digging into her skin, and when she looked up at him, she was positive he meant it.

Something flickered in his eyes. Something that suddenly made her nervous. A hint of cunning, of ambition, of deceit. She thought about what she had promised Bucky.

_"Be careful. Don't scare me again. Please, be careful."_

_"You don't have to worry about me."_

She made a mistake.

"You can't just leave!"

She pulled back sharply, walking faster.

"Don't," she said quietly, and she didn't care that she sounded angry, dangerous. "I told you, I'm sorry, but I can't do this. It isn't fair."

"To who?"

She didn't answer.

"Tell me, goddammit, TO WHO?"

She didn't look back, didn't walk any faster, didn't want to look like she was running, didn't answer, just crossed her arms tightened around her as the rain fell down harder.

"He won't be there forever, you know! You'll lose him! Like you lose them all!"

The words hit her almost as hard as a punch. She spun around, not sure what she was going to say, because that had sounded too much like a threat. What she saw didn't make her feel any better.

Lewis was gone.

Just... gone. Like dust.

She shuddered despite herself, and turned back, knowing she had to get back to Bucky. She had to get back to Bucky.

The cold rain dripped down her back, making her shiver, her hair sticking to her face and neck. The streets seemed too quiet for a night in New York, and as the minutes dragged on, she felt everything begin to crash down on her.

She was trapped. People were hunting her, and the person she had sworn to protect, and she had no idea who they were, and which ones wanted which, and the prospect of either succeeding was terrifying. And she could always leave him, and possibly give them both a better chance, but that scared her almost as much as the idea of being found did.

Not to mention, her judgement had been wrong. Lewis had been a threat, and she should have seen it. If she had been wrong about that, what else would mess up on. She had been wrong, and she couldn't afford to be wrong in this game.

It threatened to make her break down, right there in the street. She actually had to stop and shut her eyes, leaning against the wall, heart beating too fast, breaths coming too fast.

She was scared. She hated being scared.

She felt like she was about to fall, and there she was just waiting for it to finally happen.

Maybe she should let just go. She had lost Amatus. Cassius. Vela. Coulson. Sybil. Then SHIELD. Now, she was losing herself, Cara Fletcher, perfect spy. And people wanted to take Bucky, the only thing she had, away as well.

The cocking of a gun made her look up sharply.

A young man, face in the shadows, but obviously barely more than a child stared back at her.

His hand trembled. He obviously wasn't used to the weight of a gun.

"H-hand over your money!"

She stared at him dully, not moving. In fact, she almost felt like laughing. This was just too much. Of course. Of course she had to be mugged today. On the day she felt like she was drowning in her own mind. The man shook it in her face, failing to look intimidating, and it was hilarious. This whole cosmic joke that she was forced to live was fucking hilarious. She shut her eyes, pressed her head against the wall, tilting her chin up, a dark chuckle escaping her lips.

"I mean it!" He said. "I'll shoot you! I mean it!"

"Do it," she said, turning to him, the mirthless smile still frozen on her lips.  _Pull the trigger, it'll be the perfect punchline._  "I don't have anything anyways. I don't have anything left."

He frowned at her, almost begging her simply to give him something. Anything.

She felt too tired to try and talk her way out of this. She had nothing. Almost like he was dreading it, his finger slowly began to tighten on the trigger.

Suddenly, something the kid to the side, while lashing out and pushing her out of the way. She stumbled back, catching the familiar glimmer of silver on his arm, as he tackled the would-be shooter to the ground.

Even if she couldn't see his face, she heard herself murmur his name in surprise.

"Bucky?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a horrible thing here and referenced other live action comic things that are not from Marvel, but from DC... I don't really no why I did it, but


	18. Folie à Deux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of it is hallucinations and time skips coming up, so it may seem a bit confusing. The reasons for this will be explained soon, I promise. 
> 
> I listened to a lot of Black Keys writing it. A lot. The lyrics you'll see are from Sinister Kid, which is one of their best songs, in my opinion. 
> 
> And yes. The chapter title is Fall Out Boy, because I need psychological help. Send it in small rabbits and and ducklings and other fluffy animals. And Patrick Stump.

It's like he came in in the middle of an argument, but the argument was in his head.  
 ****

_"Well, if you're enlisting, I am too."_

_"You don't have to do that-"_

It was very dark. Bucky was aware of himself moving, walking, occasionally, glimpsing a car speed by, a flash of a streetlamp, another person.

_"Nah, you're right though. People over there are dying. Gotta do my part. Anyway, who'd keep an eye on you if you went over alone?"_

He could hear some saying something, asking for help. Screaming, begging for help.

_"I'm not a kid, Buck."_

_"Tell that too all the people you keep fighting in alleys."_

There were people. They were trying to fight him. Why? He had been trying to save the person crying for help. And they didn't want him to. So he fought back.

_A laugh, but even in his memory, it didn't sound quite genuine, sounding forced and pained. "You got me there."_

Was he sitting down? Had he won? Was there ever a winner?

_"Listen, I'm with you til the end of the line, pal. And if the end of the line is in Nazi Germany, so be it."_

It faded out like the last line in a movie, leaving him alone in a dark sort of empty consciousness he was only vaguely aware of, like he was falling through the void of space itself. Soon he was left listening to only his constant beating of blood in his ears.

There was music playing. He kept his eyes shut, as the sounds of guitars, someone singing, faded in and out of his consciousness.

_Well, the crooks are out_

_And the streets are gray_

_You know I wouldn't have it_

_Any other way..._

He was sitting up, back flat against the wall. It felt like his eyelids were painted with lead, and his arms felt too heavy to move. It was like he was frozen. Again.

_A sinister kid is a kid who_

_Runs to meet his Maker_

_A drop dead sprint from the day he's born_

_Straight into his Maker's arms._

Where was he? He didn't think he was home. Where was home, anyways?

_And that's me, that's me_

_The boy with the broken halo_

_That's me, that's me_

_The devil won't let me be_

He let out a small groan, still not able to will himself to move. It was raining, the cold water trickling down his neck.

_I got a tortured mind_

_And my blade is sharp_

_A bad combination_

_In the dark._

"Soldier?"

Bucky opened his eyes slowly. A small child (Four? Five?) peered peered up at him, her blonde hair pulled into two braids, green eyes bright. She held a small toy, some sort of animal, sucking her thumb, sitting cross legged in front of him. She was wearing oversized, ragged clothing, the jacket looking military, and on her wrist was a band reading 550. She looked familiar.

"Why are you sleeping?"

"Go away, girl. My head hurts."

"You're sleeping in the street."

Bucky looked around.He was leaning against the wall of a small alley, the song flowing out of a slightly ajar door to his left. He had no idea how he got here. He had been in falling asleep, and then he had been talking to Steve about enlisting, and now...

_And that's me, that's me_

_The boy with the broken halo_

Trying to stand up, he was suddenly aware of something in his hands.

_That's me, that's me_

He was holding his knife, covered in the same blood that was all over his hands and shirt. He suddenly felt even worse, nauseated and dizzy.

_The devil won't let me be_

He looked up sharply. The girl stared back at him.

"How did I get here? What happened?"

"I dunno," she said. She looked down at the toy. It was a bear or something. "I'm tryna think of a name for it. I like Jamie. Do you like Jamie?"

He paused. "I know you, don't I?"

"Uh huh. I know you too, Soldier. You have a star on your arm," she stated, as it was the only thing that was mildly strange about his arm. She looked back at the bear-thing toy, and back up at him suddenly, slightly offended. "It's not a bear, it's a fox!"

"Who are you?"

"I dunno."

"Wait," he said, and suddenly her face fell into his mind like the last piece of a puzzle. "You're the one they assigned me to protect." She grinned, and hugged the toy tighter.

"But. That was years ago. Over twenty now. Right?" She nodded. "You're not real, are you, girl? You're in my head."

She shook her head. "You let them take me away, and you knew what was going to happen."

"Am I going crazy?"

"No. Maybe."

"How did I get here?"

"I dunno."

"Who... Who did I hurt?" He looked at his shaking hands, then back at the girl.

"Bad people. Don't worry. They were very bad."

"How do you know that?" he whispered.

"I'm in your head, Soldier. I know what you know."

"Where am I?"

She held the fox out to him, with both hands. "Jamie knows. Jamie knows everything."

"I don't-"

"It's a fox, see? And in the stories, foxes always know everything. You should find your fox," she said, leaning forward, whispering her next words conspiratorially. "I think she's in trouble."

His head snapped up. "Cara?" He ignored how it made his brain feel like it was rattling in his skull.

The girl nodded. "How- How do you know-?"

"Because you're looking at her," she said, and he blinked, and he knew time had passed because it was raining even harder now, and he was looking right at her, at Cara. Cara was leaning against the wall, and Cara had a gun pointed at her head, and Cara was laughing, almost like it was funny, but he knew her, and knew her laugh, her real laugh, and she was hurting, she was in pain. Cara wasn't doing anything, and he could see, even from the considerable distance that she wasn't doing anything, and that she was going to die. Their finger, the shooter's fingers, slowly tightened on the trigger, and it felt like his heart stopped.

He felt something snap in his head, like his thoughts were nothing but twigs, and then there was just this horrible feeling of nothing spreading through his mind, as everything felt like it was burning away, leaving him nothing but ashes....

* * *

"Bucky?" she said. It was definitely him. He was beating the mugger, punching him repeatedly in the face. If he kept that up, he'd kill him. She tentatively stepped forward. Her fingers extended, she gently put her hand on his shoulder. He barely responded, hitting the man harder.

"Bucky," she said. When he didn't answer her, she tried to turn him around. "Bucky. Stop. Listen to me, Stop. It's over, stop. Stop. Bucky. STOP."

He looked up at her sharply, and what she saw made her stomach drop. He was covered in blood, and she couldn't tell if any of it was his. And he didn't recognize her. There was a violent look of pain etched on his features, his stare edged with hatred, and a cold, cold rage. He didn't look like Bucky. Like  _her_  Bucky. His metal hand still raised, the red standing out starkly against the silver. When he made no move against her, she gently took his face in her hands, running her thumbs over his cheeks, feeling the heat radiate off his skin despite the cold of the rain. He stared up at her, some of the fury dying from from his eyes. His fist fell to his side, fingers unclenching slowly.

"Oh, James... What happened to you?"

He simply looked up at her.

"Is any of this yours?" She murmured, pulling at his shirt. Red came off onto her fingertips. "Are you hurt?"

"Who are you?" He said, somewhere between a snarl and a whisper. It felt like she had been hit. She let herself close her eyes for one second. Just one second, before she jumped back into action. Her breakdown had to wait until she got them out of this.

"It's me. It's Cara. You know who I am."

_I don't want to lose him. Please, please, please. I can't lose him._

_Remember me. I'll do anything, I don't care._

_I can't lose you, not like this. You have to remember me._

"I don't. I don't know you. I don't know you!"

"Remember me, please. I know you know me. I know you can remember!"

He glared up at her, and he hated her in that moment. She saw it in his eyes. It made her heart beat harder. It hurt.

"Do you know your name?"

"I... I. Shut up. Shut up!" He tried to pull back, away from her. She grabbed his shoulders, holding him tighter.

"No. Tell me your name. You know your name. And you know mine."

"I don't know!"

"Listen to me. My name is Cara. You live with me. You just saved my life, and I would die in a heartbeat for you. I... I need you to remember who I am. Please."

He looked behind her, like he was seeing something, and when he spoke again, he wasn't speaking to her.

"Girl... Girl, why are you still here?" He tilted his head, as if listening to a reply. "Bucky...? That's it? That's who I am?"

"Yes," she said. "James. Bucky. Bucky, you're Bucky Barnes. James Buchanan Barnes."

He looked at her as if he had just realized she was there. "You're Cara. Cara Fox. My Fox." He lifted a hand, grabbing onto her wrist.

"Hey. Hey, darling.You're burning up. We need to get home."

"Where am I?"

"We're in an alley. You saved me."

"Everything's hurting."

"I know, my love. I know. Give me a second, then we'll go home okay?"

He nodded, shoulders slumped, still on his knees. He began to shake, as he forward, resting his head on her stomach. Her hand landed on the back of his head, holding him closer to her. It looked like her timebomb had finally gone off.

But she hadn't lost him. Not yet.

She glanced at the mugger, who lay unconscious. Broken nose, face covered in cuts, missing teeth, probably a skull fracture. But still breathing. He was very, very lucky. Slowly, she reached for her phone with her free hand, dialing the number.

"911," the operator said.

"There's a man unconscious in an alley, send an ambulance," she said, before giving the street name, and hanging up before they could ask her name. She turned her attention back to Bucky. He had shut his eyes, still clinging to her. "Come on. Let's go home."

She helped him stand stand up slowly, his eyes on the ground. He still held onto her, was still shaking, skin still burning beneath her fingers. She hadn't seen him lose it like this in all the time she had been with him, save for his nightmares, he had never looked this bad. Carefully, she put her arm around his waist, and he leaned into her, breathing heavily. He looked up at the street in front of them, eyes darting around as he scanned for anything that may come at them. after a few minutes, he stumbled, falling to his knees.

She knelt in front of him."Are you okay?" She said quietly, gently, tipping his head up to look at her. His pupils were dilated.

"He wanted to hurt you," he said hoarsely. "I didn't want him to hurt you."

"Bucky, I need you to tell me if you are okay," she said, trying to get him to focus.

"He wanted to shoot you. And you were going to let him."

"I wasn't thinking. I wasn't thinking, but it doesn't matter now." she said, murmuring the last words, as she pressed her forehead against his. "We need to get you home."

She felt him sliding his hand up her back, tangling in her hair. "I'll never let them hurt you. I'll never let any of them hurt you, I promise."

"You don't have to promise me that. Promise me you'll be okay. Promise."

"I'm tired, Cara. I don't remember what happened."

She pulled him up, keeping his arm draped around her shoulder, shaking slightly under his weight. "We need to get up. Come on, with me. I'll help you. We need to go home."

They took a few clumsy steps forward, before he spoke again. "Girl. You still there, girl?"

"What was that Bucky?"

"She's still here."

"Who?"

"The girl. The baby I had to protect. "

_Great. He's hallucinating,_ she thought darkly.  _This really is not looking good._

Instead of saying that, she simply said, "Oh."

"You think I'm crazy."

"No."

"It's okay. I'm starting to think so too."

"You're not crazy. You're not."

"She is there. She's real. She's just... In my head."

"But who can claim that their reality is truly true, and that they aren't the one's imagining life?" It felt like a quote.

She watched Bucky smile out of the corner of her eye. "You just made that up."

"Probably. Philosophy calms me down."

He rested his hand on hers. "You're scared, aren't you?"

She hesitated. "Yes. Terrified."  _Of everything._

"Me too."

She didn't answer. She was strong, but Bucky was heavier than the average human, and right now he could barely stay on his feet. Each step took, and the longer they were out here, he seemed to be getting weaker and weaker. It made her nervous. She wasn't sure that if they were attacked now that he would be able to defend himself, or that she would be able to defend him and her. She wasn't alone now. She wasn't just going to get shot because she was panicking. She had Bucky to think about.

She had to think about Bucky.

What felt like hours later, she finally reached the elevator to the apartment. She let Bucky lean against the wall, while she pushed the button. He was watching her dully, and as she turned back to him, he looked away quickly. It seemed to knock his center of balance off, and she had to dive to catch him before he collapsed on the floor. He remained slumped in her arms, and gave her a slightly delirious smile.

"Sweeping me off my feet."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, my god, I don't know what that was, but you might be dying."

He laughed, burying his head in her shoulder. "It's called talking to a beautiful dame."

"You really are sick, aren't you?"

He made a noise. "No."

The doors slid open, and it took all her strength to practically drag him to the door, and then to his room, setting him gently on the bed. Before he lay down, she gently pulled off his blood soaked shirt.

"Come on, I need to see if you're hurt."

"I don't think I am."

"I still need to check."

She found no cuts on him that she could see, only very slight and as she ran her fingers on his ribs, she didn't think that there was anything broken. He was staring at her, pupils still dilated, despite the dark of his room.

"Bucky, have been sensitive to light?"

He nodded.

"Alright. And you can't remember anything?"

"Little bits."

"And the girl. How long have you been seeing her?"

"Today."

"Okay... Okay, Bucky," she said, gently pushing him so that he was lying.

"You lie down. I'll be right back."

As she turned to walk away, he caught her hand. "We should go dancing."

"Where would we go dancing?"

"Here. Anywhere."

"Alright. You get better, and I'll take you dancing."

He smiled, shutting his eyes, and he looked peaceful. She found herself staring at him, watching him, for a moment, wishing that he didn't have to be sick to look at peace.

She walked out to the bathroom, getting a rag and soaking it in water, pausing to rest her hands on the counter and shut her eyes. He was going to be okay. She knew where to get help. He was just sick, and he would get better. He had to get better. She glanced at herself in the mirror, and she looked like a few steps from hell. Soaking wet, smeared makeup, worry evident on her face.

She stepped back, pulling her phone out, dialing who she desperately hoped would help them, knowing her number was blocked.

"Dr. Ellis? This is Agent Fletcher. You owe me a favor, and I'm cashing it in. Yes. I know. It's my friend. Please, he's sick. He's hallucinating, has a fever, shaking, and I can't take him to a hospital. If you don't help me, I swear, I will blow my cover, and go to Stark Tower and Bruce Banner himself. I will do anything to save him. Yes. Yes. I'll send you my location. Thank you. Thank you so much."

She hung up, picking up the cloth, and going back to his bedside. He was lying there, motionless, his eyes occasionally flickering open. Grabbing a chair, she sat down beside him, and began to clean the blood off his hands. It wasn't his. There was no way it was his, and as much as that made her uneasy, about what had happened before he had found her, she also felt so relieved it hurt. He turned his head slightly towards her, and smiled that same delirious smile.

"Cara Fox." He murmured her name like he had forgotten she was there, like she was some pleasant surprise who had appeared from nowhere.

"Bucky Barnes," she replied, trying to get the blood out of the cracks in the metal, not looking up at him.

_Bucky Barnes._

_I'm not leaving you._

_You're going to be okay._

As she reached over to grab his other hand, she paused, and did something stupid, getting over whatever delusions she'd been under, admitting to herself, to him, to the whole damn world, that she was well and truly fucked. She kissed his cheek, so light he barely stirred beneath her, before gently whispering in his ear, with grim certainty.

"James Buchanan Barnes. I'm not losing you. If anyone tries to hurt you, I'll kill them. I'll break any law to keep you safe, fight any enemy, lie any lie. You're going to have to be the better of us, my love. Because I'm swearing this now, and let the night be my witness. I will not lose you. We're in this together. And I will not lose you."


	19. In My End, You Were My Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Glass Heart Hymn by Paper Route.

_[Unknown Location]_

_Do you know what happens to people who fail us?_

The man lay trembling in front of the static filled television screen.

The voice was like a thousand voices combining, distorting itself. It's pitch rose and fell, becoming louder and softer.

He felt himself whisper, "Yes."

_Have you failed?_

"N-no. She ran off. It wasn't my fault."

_Did you not think to follow her?_

"She was on edge. She suspected something already. We still have the element of surprise."

_Do not forget your task._

_Do you know what happens to people who fail us?_

He extended a hand, pressing it flat against the screen.

_You are going to retrieve the Asset._

_You are going to do whatever it takes._

_Do you know what happens to people who fail us?_

He nodded slowly.

_Our sources claim that he is with their target, providing mutual protection. Remove her from the picture, but do not damage either of them too badly. She is not to be underestimated. You know their customs. They will make no move on her. They are waiting for us to take her, and him. You will collect them both, and they will be sent to us. Use their weaknesses, their loyalty to each other, their fear, their love. Use their weakness against them._

_Do you know what happens to people who fail us?_

_We know you do._

_I know you do._

_Do you know what we do to people who fail us?_

_Do not fail us._

He shuddered, standing up. He had work to do. The static filled screen of the television shut off abruptly, on it's own, leaving behind only a voice echoing around the small room.

_Do you know what happens to people who fail us?_

* * *

_Cara sat on the table of the exam room, swinging her legs back at forth. Phil Coulson had taken her out of the Gray Building that she been in for a long time. Then Melinda May brought her onto the plane, and had left. Her eyes darted to the scary looking tools on the wall, in the cabinet, the paper crinkling underneath her. Standing up, she dropped to the ground, moving to the wall behind the door, and turning off the light._

_Phil Coulson and Melinda May hadn't seemed like bad guys. But bad guys pretended to be good guys a lot. Bad guys lied. And pretended. She had to figure out which was which._

_The door opened, and she shrank back farther, moving closer to the door. Two people walked in. She didn't stay long enough to see their confused faces, as she slipped away, running out the door._

_"May said she was in here!"_

_"How do you lose a child?"_

_"That was the room!"_

_She glanced back, and in that moment of distraction, stumbled over her own feet and tripped, flying forward._

_"Woah, there!" Someone said, as they caught her. She looked up, seeing an older man, dark hair turning gray, smiling down kindly."Where are you off to?"_

_She stared at him, not answering._

_"You're Cara, right? They just brought you in?"_

_She nodded slowly."Why were you running?"_

_She shrugged. "I dunno."_

_"Well. I'm Dr. Ellis. Nice to meet you."_

_She pulled back, glancing around._

_"You trying to escape?"_

_"No."_

_"I tried to escape too, you know, when they first brought me in. Now look at me. Been working for them for about twenty years."_

_She gave him a critical look, in only the way seven year old can._

" _No. They're good guys. I promise," he said, laughing. She stared at him judgmentally, but didn't seem like she was going to run away again._

_"Well then, Cara. Let's say we get those needles out."_

_She looked thoughtful, glancing back down the hall, then back up at him, before nodding._

_"Okay."_

* * *

_She sat on the table again, while Dr. Ellis, and a funny nurse who kept making jokes, (and who seemed very impressed that she had tricked two agents) distracting her as Dr. Ellis pulled out the needles in her arms and neck. It hurt a little bit._

_"How did you get that mark on your face, Cara?" Dr. Ellis asked suddenly. She suddenly turned her attention to the ground, looking slightly bashful._

_"One of the people tried to take me away again, so I bit them. Then I got hit."Dr. Ellis exchanged a look with the nurse._

_"You okay?" She nodded. Picking up a clipboard, he looked at her name, only four letters._

_"Cara. Hmm. Bit short. Do you want a longer name?"_

_"Like. two names? Like Phil Coulson and Melinda May?"_

_"Some people even have three."_

_She thought about it, before stating with absolute certainty. "I want three names."_

_"Which names do you like?"_

_She looked at the nurse, who smiled back. "What's your name?"_

_"Allison Fletcher."_

_"I like Fletcher."_

_"Cara Fletcher. What about your middle name?"_

_She shrugged. "I dunno. What do you think?"_

_He thought about it, eyes becoming slightly distant. "Calista," he said after a moment._

_Cara nodded._

_The nurse gave her a wink, writing the the name down. "Cara Calista Fletcher. That's a bit of a mouthful. You'll certainly be remembered, Cali."_

_Cara smiled._

_For the first time since her rescue, she smiled, speaking softly. "Good."_

* * *

Cara jerked awake at the sound of the knock at the door. She had been dreaming, still sitting at Bucky's bedside. She had been dreaming about what she didn't often think about. What she couldn't often think about. She stood up quickly, checking the time (5:51 in the morning). Bucky was murmuring next to her, but he was unconscious. She paused to watch him for a moment, pulling the thin, sweat soaked sheet up to his chest, before gently pushing his hair back from his face. He still had a fever.

"Help's here, Bucky," she said, as she stepped away. She opened the door harder than she meant to, revealing a slightly surprised looking elderly man, with a full white beard and kindly eyes.

"Well, you look absolutely terrible," he said, stating it as purely as an observation.

She gave him an equally critical look. "And you look like Santa Claus."

"I'm retired. I can look however I damn well please."

There was a pause, before she gave a short laugh, letting him in. He carried a medical bag, limping slightly from what she knew was an old injury from when he worked in the field. "It's been a long time, Cali."

She winced at the nickname. "It wasn't since... it's been two years now, hasn't it?"

He nodded, pausing. "You hanging in there?"

"Yes," she said shortly.

He nodded, not looking convinced, although he switched topics.

"I am serious though. You look terrible. You positive you're not the one who's sick? Have you been sleeping?"

She gave him a pained smile. "He looks even worse."

"Oh, dear."

Shutting the door behind him, she took a deep breath, leading the older man down the hall. "I need you to promise you won't tell anyone about this. He needs to stay a secret. I do too, really. Don't tell him who I am. Who I was."

"I have spent my life taking care of broken spies. I can a keep a few secrets."

"Thank you. And he's... He's a little unstable. Let me talk to him before you do anything."

"Who exactly are you friends with?"

Cara didn't answer, slowly opening the door to his room.

"Bucky," she called out gently, walking to sit by his side, and slipping her hand into his metal one. He opened his eyes, and stared up at her vacantly. "Bucky. This is Dr. Ellis. He's here to help."

Ellis put his stuff down by the bed, pulling out a stethoscope. "Hello, Bucky. Cara was right. You look like hell."

Bucky didn't seem to hear him, although he flinched when Dr. Ellis placed the cold metal on his chest, listening his heart.

"How long has he been like this?"

"This? About six hours. But he was complaining of a headache for a few days, and last night he started hallucinating. He has a fever, he's shaking, he just hasn't been... Right."

"The shaking. Like he's cold, or just in general?"

"In general, I think."

"Fever, delirium, headache, tremors... Has he been seizing?"

"No."

"Huh," Ellis said. "Has his neck been stiff?"

Cara shook her head. "Not that I've noticed."

"Good chance it isn't meningitis then. I should do a lumbar puncture anyways..."

"He isn't going to like that."

"I need to be sure. My first hunch is encephalitis. But it's rare. We can check that with the puncture too. If it is, I might be able to narrow it down now. Any exposure to wild animals, known toxins, ticks, mosquitos?"

"I... I don't think so. Maybe. He was walking. From DC to here. I don't know about before that. I don't know a lot about him. About his... Missions. Before we got out. He doesn't know a lot either. Probably less than me."

"He was a spy? Worked for SHIELD?"

He was looking at her, and she had the feeling that he knew exactly who Bucky was.

"In a way," she said quietly.

"Has he been taking any new medications?"

"No. Not for the past few weeks at least."

"Has he been sexually active?"

"I don't think so."

"Where did he get the arm?"

Cara looked up at him. "I don't know."

"Do you know when?"

"No... Is it important?"

Ellis shrugged. "It might be."

"Fox... Cara?" Bucky said drowsily, cutting off the conversation, and any reply she might have had. She looked back down at his face, and saw a small trickle of blood dripping from his nose as he tried to sit up. "What's happening?"

"Shit, Bucky, lie back down" she said. looking back at Ellis. He reached in his bag, pulling out a rag, and handing it to her. She tried to clean it up, but he began to struggle more. "Where am I? What's happening?"

"Bucky, stop. You're with me. You're safe. Hold still. You're sick."

His arm lashed out suddenly, hitting her hard in the chest, knocking her to the ground with a crash. She gasped, coughing as she tried to catch her breath. He had a hell of hit.

"Cali!" Ellis said, moving towards her. She held up a hand, standing up painfully, wheezing slightly, and moving back to Bucky's side, taking his hand as he stared at her in confusion and horror.

"I'm okay. He didn't mean it. I'm okay."

"...Cara? Why were you on... Did I...?"

"Shush, baby," she said, looking back at Ellis. "Can you do the puncture now?"

"No. I need to get some things. For other tests too. I'll be back in a few hours. Give him acetaminophen. I take it he hasn't eaten anything in a few hours, so keep him away from ibuprofen. Keep him in bed, make sure he sleeps, and try to make sure he drinks. Keep him hydrated, or this could go from bad to worse. Also, I need to know his medical history. His birthday. Everything. Try to dig that up for me. It shouldn't be too hard anymore."

Cara nodded, staring down at Bucky, who had shut his eyes. She extended a hand, touching his forehead, feeling the heat race beneath his skin.

"Call me if anything changes. I'll see myself out. Keep an eye on him."

Cara nodded again, glancing at the man who had helped her choose a name. "Thank you."

"I don't think you've ever look at anyone like that...You look like you could be happy. No. You've been happy before.You look like you would  _try_ to be happy."

She felt her gaze drop. "I don't even know what that means anymore."

Ellis laughed as he left the room. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Cali. No one knows what that means. We're all just making it up as we go."

Cara listened as he limped away.

Her hand tightened slightly on Bucky's.

His eyes flickered open, meeting hers.

She smiled.

~ ~ ~

Cara stared at Bucky, now completely unconscious, lying too still, still holding onto his hand. She looked down at it, gently moving her thumb in circles. His fever had gone down slightly, thanks to the Tylenol she managed to track down in the cabinets (and after making him take it. Unpleasant names were said on both sides, in multiple languages. Bribery was involved). Her eyes drifted down to the stack of papers by her feet, landing on the picture on top. She had found the records Ellis wanted, printing them out, and taking care not to leave any trace of her searching for them. He had been taken out of cryo for a few weeks at a time, mostly for training, and shorter missions. Occasionally, he had run long ones, but he was always back in the ice after they were done. And he had been everywhere. Russia. England. Brazil. Cuba. Obscure places in the deserts of America.

There was never any record of him falling ill while on a mission, but then again, she didn't know what she was looking for. Ellis would.

The picture was of the Winter Soldier. The man in front of her looked exactly like him in that moment. Asleep.

He murmured something again, fingers twitching.

"You know... I haven't worried this much since my partner was in the hospital. The moron went out and got himself shot when we weren't even on a mission. I thought he was going to die... He didn't... Still gave me a gave me a heart attack."

She glanced back up at his face. He was still out. She kept talking.

"His name was Reynard. Sybil always called him Reynie, but he always liked these pretentious, over the top nicknames. Aim was his favorite. Short for Amatus. I called him that maybe three times. Didn't want him to think he was too important, or anything. When he was lying in the hospital bed, like you are now, and when... When he... Nevermind. He's gone now. I guess it doesn't matter. I think you would have liked him. He would have liked you. Always giving everyone a second chance, even when he shouldn't have. We both had a soft spot for broken things, I guess."

She extended her other hand, brushing back the strands of hair from his face. He didn't react. "You would have belonged with us. You would have belonged with me. You... You do belong with me."

He stirred slightly, murmuring something, but not waking up.

"If I told you any of this, when you're awake, you'd leave me. I didn't think this would happen. I remember seeing you, after the ships fell, and Natasha had told me who you were. But you, you didn't look like the Winter Soldier I had expected. The one who would shoot his friend. The ruthless killer. You didn't look like a monster. You looked... Human. You saved Steve. I didn't want you to lose that part of yourself. I guess I'm like Reynard too. And maybe I was reckless, and selfish, but we're here, together, and neither of us are alone, so maybe it was for the best. Maybe... Maybe, everything was worth it."

She laughed quietly. "That sounds like a bad thing. People died. A lot of people. People who didn't deserve it. People who should have lived. But you. You got out. And that's good. And I found you, and I think that's also good."

She paused, before she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his chest. Resting her head over his heart, praying that there wouldn't be a day when she did this, and she heard no sound. She shut her eyes. "I've made mistakes. I'm confused, scared. I'm a liar, and... And a killer. I hope you can forgive me. I am not a good guy. But I'd try. I'd try to be, for you."

Something trickled down her face. Was she crying? She never cried. "Please, please get better. Please come back to me. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, for everything. But, I'm here now. I'm here. Please, I... I lo... I need you to be okay."

The tears were really coming now. All of this was too much. She hadn't slept, barely ate, and now she was thinking about things she shouldn't be thinking about. And it was too much. She shuddered against him, feeling his heart beat, and remembering that he was alive. He was alive, and she hadn't lost him yet.

Something touched the back of her head, gently stroking her hair. She looked up, and Bucky was staring at her.

"Why are you crying, doll?" He murmured sleepily. She gave him a small smile, putting her head back down on his chest, watching him.

"Just worried about you."

"Don't worry... Don't cry."

She gave a sort of strangled laugh. "I'll try."

He kept running his fingers through her hair. "You look tired."

"So do you."

"Have you slept?"

"A little."

"You need to sleep."

"I'm okay, really."

He suddenly looked very stubborn. It almost made her laugh. It definitely made her thankful for his moment of lucidness.

"I'll stay awake with you then."

"Bucky..." She said, sitting up. "The sooner you get better, the sooner I'll sleep."

"The sooner you sleep, the sooner I'll get better."

She sat back down in the chair, leaning her head back, giving a small laugh, and putting her feet up on his bed. "Touche."

He looked behind her sharply.

"You shouldn't be here."

She turned around, seeing nothing. "What?"

"I see- I saw... Nevermind."

"No, Bucky, what did you see?"

"There's some people."

"Do you know who they are?"

"A woman... Brown hair, old cloths. She looks familiar. But different from the others. And Steve. A bunch of men. I saw them at the exhibit. And Steve's dame. And the girl. The girl is with them."

"They saying anything?"

He tilted his head, and his eyes widened, and he reeled back, raising his arms as if to ward off an attack. Cara jumped to her feet, kneeling next to him on the bed. "It wasn't my fault! That wasn't me, I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Bucky, don't listen to them. Don't worry about them. Look at me, listen to me. I'm here."

"Tell them I'm so sorry. I'm sorry! Tell them to leave me alone. Leave me alone!"

"You're sorry. That's all that matters. I forgive you. It wasn't your fault."

He shut his eyes, reaching up and digging his fingers into his scalp. "My head hurts. My head hurts, and they won't stop talking."

"Just sleep. Sleep. I'll be right here. Sleep."

"I don't think I can do this anymore, Cara."

He sounded like he was on the verge of tears, like he was panicking.

It made her panic too, a little. She kept it hidden. "You're going to have to."

"How?"

"With me. Together."

He looked up at her. "Together."

"You and me. We'll go dancing, like you said. As soon as you're up and about."

He seemed to calm slightly, hands falling from his head. "I'd like that."

She smiled, crossing her legs.

"Go to sleep. I'll be right here."

"You too?"

"Soon."

He look past her for a moment. "And you lot. Shut up. Some of us are trying to sleep here."

She turned around, looking at the emptiness in the room.

"Yeah. We don't need ghosts here. Shut up, or go away."

Bucky began to laugh, shutting his eyes beside her, and leaning his head back, looking nearly relaxed. She caught a sight of something she hadn't seen before. Something that once was. Perhaps the people in Bucky's mind weren't the only ghosts with them tonight.

"Listen to the lady," he said, and his voice carried a hint of a Brooklyn accent. She gently stroked his hair, watching each subtle change in his face. "Listen to the lady, and let me sleep."

"Did they?"

"Hmm?" he said vacantly, like he had forgotten that she was there.

"Did they listen to me? Are they letting you sleep?"

"No," he said, sighing. "No, they're still there. But it was worth a shot."

She leaned down, kissing his forehead, listening as his breath caught slightly.

"Come on then. Go to sleep. I'll be right here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was one crazy emotional roller coaster.
> 
> I have no idea what I am doing when it comes to the medical stuff. I just finished one year of high school pre-med, and did one case study on the illness Bucky has. I stressed about getting it right for weeks, and then realized that this is a universe were gamma rays turn people green because of anger, and people have robot arms and flying cars. I'm just a sleepy high school student who doesn't know what they're doing.   
> Dr. Ellis (who is literally just Hershel Greene with a medical degree and a SHIELD badge, because I'm having some heavy Walking Dead emotions) will just never explain anything. (also bless MayoClinic/Wikipedia combination).


	20. Three Options

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of the Civil War trailer (i'm dead i'm dying) here is another chapter. 
> 
> Song for it is Fever by the Black Keys, because I have a sick sense of humor. (and a terrible one, apparently)
> 
> Warnings: Also, this chapter has some vague medical stuff with needles (spinal taps , and IV's and blood draws). If that triggers you, or if you just don't like reading about it, turn away for the entire Cara POV portion of this chapter.

_It was very bright._

_He wasn't quite sure where he was._

_Cara was sitting next to him as he lay in bed, just as bright as the rest of the room, shining like a star._

_She extended a hand, gently running her thumb over his cheek. Her fingers were cold on his skin. He caught her hand._

_"Cara."_

_"Hey, James," she whispered._

_"What are you doing here?"_

_"You're screaming again," she said. "You don't need to be afraid."_

_"This is a dream."_

_"Yeah."_

_"This isn't real."_

_"That's debatable."_

_"I should wake up."_

_"If you want to."_

_"I don't. It's better here."_

_She smiled. "You don't need to be afraid."_

_"What if they come for me? What if you get hurt?"_

_"You are the Winter Soldier. You can keep one person safe."_

_"You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen," he murmured._

_She laughed._

_He frowned. "What's so funny?"_

_"You're trying to be romantic."_

_"Oh. Am I that bad at it?"_

_"Yes."_

_"You know, I didn't used to be."_

_"I know, James."_

_"I didn't used to be... This."_

_"I know."_

_"Would you have loved me then? If you had met me when I was all Bucky, not whatever I am now, would you have loved me?"_

_"I don't know," she said quietly._

_"I would have thought you were beautiful then too."_

_She gave another laugh. "You'd never say this aloud."_

_"But I think it."_

_"What else do you think about?"_

_"That I'm afraid of falling."_

_"And?"_

_"I think I'm falling for you."_

_She laughed again. "James Barnes, all the more reason to keep me alive."_

_"Cara, I'm scared. I'm so scared. What if I can't keep them away? Please. I can't lose you. And I can't go back to what I was. I can't be theirs again. I can't. I can't."_

_"Shh. I'm here." She pushed his hair from his face._

_"I can't go back to what I was. I don't want to lose myself again. I can't lose myself again."_

_"I'm here. You sleep. I'm here."_

_He shut his eyes, her ghostly presence never moving from his side._

_He could hear her, and maybe it wasn't Cara, maybe the dream had chose her voice specifically for him, but she was there, everywhere, nowhere, whispering._

_"You know, there are always three options for when you dreaming about the fall. Sometimes, you wake up. Sometimes, the fall kills you, breaks you. But there is a third alternative. Isn't there always a third alternative? Sometimes, you fly. Which one are you going to choose, James? Because you are going to have to choose. We all have to choose."_

_It was the first dream in a long time that did not completely ruin him._

_He had had enough of those._

* * *

Cara had lied to Bucky.

Cara didn't sleep at all.

She did a routine security check (several times. It wasn't like she was paranoid. But she did not want an unpleasant surprise when Bucky could barely move). She read through his files (although she never made it very far into his missions, or exactly how they wiped his memory. It made her feel sick, and angry. Very angry). She tried to convince him to drink something, but that always ended with one of them getting pissed off (dear God, he was stubborn. Was he like this before? It almost made her laugh to imagine a young Bucky stubbornly refusing to do anything). She didn't even try to get him to eat anything.

Sometimes he would wake up. Sometimes, when he did, he would talk to her. Tell her that he thought that the war wouldn't last long, that they'd be out in a few months, and that it was fine he was enlisting, he'd be back home with her in less than a year. Once, he started talking to her about his family, about his mom and dad, and how his dad was in the army, and been off training when he had been born. He told her about his sister, Rebecca, and how she had found a stupid cat and named it after him. He told her about his mom, and how she had been so worried when he came home telling her he was shipping out.

Cara would listen, smiling and nodding, not showing how much she felt like her heart was breaking with every word. Not showing how she wondered if it would be better if he forgot all of this when he truly woke up. The way he talked about them. It would kill him to know that that they were all long gone. This was what he was like before his fall. This is what they took from him.

It hurt.

Ellis didn't come back until late that night. When she opened, looking out cautiously, her stomach dropped as she opened the door for him. He looked rather exhausted already, and he wasn't alone.

"I thought you promised not to tell anyone," she hissed at him.

"This is Claire Temple. She's a nurse, and I need her help."

Cara suddenly felt years younger, glaring at him like she always did when she was a child. "But you promised-" "

Cara, you can yell at me later," he said, cutting her off. "But I am here to work. And I need Claire's help. If you forgot, it's been several years since I've actually done clinic work, and I'm out of practice."

Cara glanced at the nurse still wearing scrubs, holding a bag on her shoulder. The woman crossed her arms, staring her down bravely, and Cara felt some sort of grudging respect forming already. Faintly, she hoped that her judgement of people was not so far gone that she was placing Bucky's life in the hands of someone who would betray them.

"Can I trust you?"

"I could say the same thing," Temple said. "Why aren't you going to a hospital?"

"Bad things would happen," she said, not feeling in the mood to explain that Bucky would probably make a scene (not by any fault of his own), and that would probably end with someone, probably her and Bucky, getting shot.

Temple sighed. "I find an old man breaking into the hospital to steal medical equipment, and suddenly I'm helping him save the life of a someone refusing to go to the hospital. What have I gotten myself into?"

Cara didn't answer, glancing briefly at Ellis, who nodded slowly, before she spun around, leaving the door wide open for them, walking back to Bucky's room.

She heard Ellis whisper to Claire, as they followed her, "Don't worry. These are good people."

Bucky was still asleep.

"The files you wanted are there," Cara said, waving at the pile paper beside the bed, as she sat down beside Bucky. He opened his eyes, the motion of the bed sinking slightly waking him. He looked up at her.

"I've read through some of them. The arm was replaced in 2012. It was an extensive surgery. He's been in and out of cryo for the past fifty years or so, and there has only been one other recorded incident of him getting sick, in '74. It was nothing like this. There is no connection."

"Huh," Ellis said, looking thoughtful. He picked up a file and looked through it. "Hello, James. 97 years old. Impressive. You're looking good for your age."

"97?" Temple asked, flipping through another one, and looking between it and Bucky. "Shit. He's been through hell."

"Understatement," Cara murmured. Bucky was still staring up at her, oblivious to the conversation next to him. She knew he wouldn't remember this, or would convince himself that it was a dream.

Ellis nodded again. "We're going to do the tap now. Draw blood after that. See where we are. I'll look through the tests when I get home, and call you later."

"Have you put him on anything?" Temple said.

"Your basic anti-inflammatory medication, nothing fancy," Ellis said.

She looked at Cara. "Has he been taking those okay?"

"Define 'okay'," Cara said dryly.

"Help me sit him up," Ellis said, as Temple moved on one side. Cara moved so that she sat in front of him, pulling him up, holding him steady as he swayed. She turned him so that his back was to Ellis and Temple, turning herself so that she still faced him.

"James. Are you paying attention to me?"

He gave her a confused look. "What's happening?"

"They need to check some fluid in your spine. They're going to put in a needle, and it's going to hurt, but I'm right here. Promise me you won't hurt them. Or me." She slid her hands into his arms, firmly keeping him from being able to lash out, nodding at Ellis to hurry up.

"I don't know what's happening."

"Listen. Listen to my voice."

His head sunk into her shoulder, holding onto her tightly.

Ellis looked up speaking slowly. "I'm going to count to three, and you're going to feel something sharp. Alright? Ready? One. Two. Three." He began to push the anesthetic needle into his back. Bucky fingers tightened on her hips, before moving to her shoulder blades. His eyes were tightly shut.

"You're doing great," Cara said. He snarled something (something along the lines  _shut up, your don't have a goddamn needle in your spine, don't you patronize me_ ). Ellis pulled the needle out, as Temple handed him the bigger one, the real one.

"Right. You're going to feel some pressure now, Mr. Barnes," Ellis said. "Get comfortable. This isn't going to be pleasant."

Bucky groaned. Cara let her eyes drift to where Ellis was inserting the needle. She had to look away quickly. Bucky's arm creaked as he tensed, and for a second, she was afraid he'd lash out. When he didn't, after a moment of consideration, Cara let go of it reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. He responded by lifting his head up to stare at her. She gave him a small smile, resting her forehead on his.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," he said back.

"You're looking slightly better, you know."

"That's good."

"You still seeing your ghosts?"

"I don't know. Girl's there, on the end of the bed. She's laughing at you. I hear Steve. Is Steve here?"

"No."

"Good. He'd punch me if he knew I pushed you."

"Nah. He probably laugh. He'd think it's funny we know each other."

He looked at her. "Do you know him?"

Wait. Shit, no. Backtrack.

"I... I know of him. From what you've said."

"No. You know him."

She looked sharply back up Ellis, who gave her a brief glance.

Before she could say anything, she heard him murmur, shutting his eyes. "Tell him this was so much worse than Coney Island."

She blinked, giving a small laugh. "Okay."

He was silent for a long time. She almost thought he fell asleep, if not for his occasional movements, his fingers twitching on her side, his unsteady breathing.

"Fox?" He said suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"We still on for dancing?"

"Yeah. Whatever you want," she said, glaring at a smirking Ellis.

"Good."

"When did these plans happen, Cali?" Ellis said. "I seemed to recall you hating dancing."

"Shut up," she said. "I wouldn't mind dancing, if it's with Bucky." She felt his hands tighten on her again.

"The right partner," he said to himself, distantly. He was quoting someone. He was remembering something again.

Cara smiled him. "Something like that."

Ellis chose that moment to have a violent coughing fit that didn't quite hide his laughter. Temple simply shook her head, although there was a small smile on her face as well.

"There," Ellis said, as the needle gave slightly. "Almost done."

"Hey," she whispered into Bucky's ear. "You're okay. It wasn't that bad."

He gave her a dark look. "Cara Fox, you don't know what you're talking about."

She laughed. "No, I do, and you're overreacting. It really isn't that bad."

"You've had one?" He said in surprise.

"A few."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't be," she said. He leaned on her shoulder again.

"We're done," Ellis said. "He can lie down now. I have a few more tests."

Bucky collapsed to the side almost immediately, taking Cara down with him. Ellis had another suspiciously mirthful coughing fit. She sat up, glaring at him again, as he pulled out a small instrument, one that looked like a scanner. As he held it above Bucky's head, it made a beeping noise, and he looked down at the screen in concern, shaking his head.

"What's that?" Cara said, moving Bucky's arm so that she could sit up. He turned onto his back, closing his eyes again.

"Portable CAT scan. I may have bribed one of SHIELD's bright young science officers to obtain it. The two brightest, actually."

"But SHIELD's go-"

"Destroyed, yes. At least, the old one. You of all people should know that things can be reborn from the ashes." He gave Bucky a pointed look. Cara felt her hand land on his metal arm protectively, despite the fact that she knew Ellis had read the files, and knew who he was.

"Anyways," Ellis continued. "Your friend here seems to have some swelling in his brain. Encephalitis, like I thought. The puncture was to see what's causing it, so we can treat it. Claire here smuggled me some antiviral meds we'll start him on some just to be safe. But there was also some unusual neural pathways. Very simply, his mind was rewritten. And he's reforming all those old connections, while maintaining the new ones. I don't envy him."

Cara ran her fingers through Bucky's hair. "What do I do?"

"He's going to have to deal with his mind on his own. It's not causing his symptoms. It's simply something that needs to happen, and not something any of us can help with. That's his own battle. As for his physical illness, we'll start treating him now for the encephalitis. Keep him on acetaminophen. He's drinking, right?"

"Yes. But he's been fighting me on it."

"Eating?"

"No."

"If his serum is anywhere close what they used on Rogers, it increased his metabolism and appetite. He needs to eat," Ellis said. He looked at Claire. "You feel in the mood to draw some blood and start an IV?"

"I have nothing better to do," Temple said, already pulling on some gloves, and reaching into her bag for the needles. She glanced down at the arm closest to her. "But I don't think it's going to work on metal, and I really don't want him to tear the IV out."

The bed was against wall, no place for an IV pole on the other side. The tube would have to cross his body, and would be way easier for him to "tear out" if he thrashed because of a nightmare.

"It'll be okay," Cara said. "I'll watch him. He'll be fine."

"Cara, at some point, you are going to have to get some rest," Ellis said. "You can't watch him forever."

"I slept this morning, I'll be fine."

He gave her a doubtful look. "Sure. Okay. Give him this," Ellis said, wisely dropping the subject, pulling out two clear, plastic, orange bottles and handing her one. "Low grade sedatives might work to keep him tired." He handed her the other. "These are the antiviral pills. One every six hours."

She nodded. "Claire, we'll draw blood, get IV set up, and then we'll leave."

Claire nodded, and she took his nonmetal hand, turning his arm over and looking for a good vein from which to draw blood, as Cara held the other one down.

After a moment, she leaned down, pressing her forehead against Bucky's.

"You're okay," she whispered. "You don't need to be afraid. Everything's going to be okay. I'm here."

He was too far into his dreams to hear her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm editing this at like midnight. There are bound to be typos.
> 
> Right, so during Cara's POV part, Ellis showed up with Claire Temple (my queen), and they decide to do a spinal tap (really not fun), draw blood, and do a mini catscan thing with some SHIELD tech. They diagnose it as encephalitis (swelling of the brain) caused by an infection in Bucky's arm. Luckily Bucky's immune system is great, and is learning how to fight it off on it's own (irl it's likely that he would be left with permanent brain damage but luckily this is not real life). Claire sets up an IV and then END. 
> 
> We have some pre-Daredevil/Jessica Claire taking care of dorky cute heroes.
> 
> If you can spot the other (admittedly not Marvel, but DC/Vertigo) very minor cameo, kudos. I was reading Sandman- Fables & Reflections today (what am I, 21 years late on that one?). The entire dream is a reference I'm definitely coming back to, hopefully in more detail, because reasons. As usual, no knowledge needed. I'll just be here commandeering characters for my own sadistic purposes.
> 
> Repeating the disclaimer. Medical science things is hard, man. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't really know how long a spinal tap takes. I was just making stuff up. House M.D. is not accurate, but it teaches me things. There is the possibility that I'll be coming around and rewriting this if my information was too inaccurate. Thanks.
> 
> and really  
> civil war has k i l l e d me


	21. Nocturnes & Preludes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is Work Song by Hozier.
> 
> I literally cannot stop with the Sandman references. Whoops. 
> 
> This chapter is probably full of weird sentences/typos, but I can't bring myself to edit it again. Hope you like it!

_The Winter Soldier stumbled into the small room of the HYDRA base, soaking wet, limping, shoulder aching, metal arm barely working, fighting down the pain and confusion._ ****

_It was dark._

_It was never dark._

_Usually there were several scientists wandering around. Usually he was with was with an extraction team. Usually, he had completed his mission._

_He was beginning to feel desperate. His eyes landed on the chair where they usually fixed his arm, and without thinking, he fell into it, sighing in relief a the weight now gone from his feet._

_The sickly light flickered above him. No one came._

_He was alone._

_He glanced around._

_There was no one here._

_The words weren't making sense._

_He was alone._

_His heart began to beat faster. He didn't know what to do. He didn't have orders._

_He was alone._

_A noise made him look up suddenly. A woman stumbled in,arms full of papers, freezing when she saw him. Bucky calmly held up the gun, rising to his feet._

_"Can you fix my arm?" He said. His voice felt rough, almost uncomfortable to use. She looked at him, the gun, and his arm, and made the wise choice._

* * *

_The Winter Soldier flinched, as a shooting jolt went up his back. The scientist had removed one of the plates, messing with on of the internal systems._

_"What are still doing here?" Her voice was soft, with a French lilt. He didn't answer. "It is dangerous, you know. I had to come back for my research. But soon, SHIELD will be here. Or HYDRA. And it will all be gone."_

_He looked at her._

_Her eyes were full of sympathy. "You... I know who you are. The Winter Soldier."_

_He gave a short nod._

_"I also know your story."_

_That_ _'s_ _more than I know, he thought._

_She picked up another tool, rewiring something in his arm. "You know. I never wanted to join HYDRA. I just wanted to invent things. Then, one day, a man showed up at my work, and says to me, we will give all the funding you need if you join us. If you say no, your children will die. I... I say yes."_

_She looked at him. "You? You did not have such a choice."_

_She put down the tool. "Try your hand," she said. He did. His fingers flexed with only the slightest whir. "It will be a bit... hit and miss, for the next few days, I warn you."_

_He nodded, standing up._

_"You need to run," she said. "Get out. We know too much, us two. They will not let us live."_

_Before he could move, she handed him a folder."Run, James. We will not meet again."_

_He looked at the name on the front._

_James Buchanan Barnes._

**_"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes."_ **

**_"Shut up!"_ **

_She was walking away._

_"Wait!" He called out. His voice cracked. He looked around. There was nothing left for him here. She turned back. If he could see himself in her eyes, he would see the equivalent of a lost child. A lost soldier. A lost man, desperately awaiting orders that would never come._

_"I... I don't know what to do."_

_"You are the Winter Soldier, no? Find a new mission."_

_Then she left him alone, under the dying, flickering lights, with the horrors of his past in his hands, and horrors of the future in front of him._

* * *

_The Winter Soldier sat in his stolen clothes, taken from a large department store that hadn't even noticed him there, on a small bench. He had picked the pockets of several people, and had found a stash of money in the back of the HYDRA compound. He had enough to live under the radar for a while. He had some satisfaction from using their money._

_He had read about what they had done, in the file the scientist had given him. Read about what they had done to his mind._

_The people he had killed were influential people that were getting in the way of HYDRA's progress. They had been lying to him. He hadn't been benefiting humanity. He had been benefiting them. They had been using him. He looked up at the building in front of him. The Smithsonian. He saw the man's face,Captain America's face, on an advertisement, for an exhibit inside. He need to see it, to see if the man had been lying when they said they had known each other._

_He had to see for himself._

* * *

_The Winter Soldier didn't know how he was supposed to feel._

_The man on the wall was him._

_It was him._

**_"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes."_ **

_"Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country."_

**_"People are gonna die, Buck."_ **

_People have died._

**_"Run, James. We will not meet again."_ **

**_"Who the hell is Bucky?"_ **

**_"Find a new mission."_ **

_People are gonna die._

_The only Howling commando to give his life._

_Run._

_We will not meet again._

_New mission._

_Your name._

_His life._

_James._

_Bucky._

_Run._

_Run._

_Run._

_He took a step back, and almost instantly, collided with someone. He spun around, catching their shoulders as they nearly fell. They held onto him as well._

_The crowds still rushed back and forth, ignoring them. They were only here to see the history they wanted to see._

_Slowly, she raised her green eyes to meet his._

_"Watch where you're going," he snapped. It was the first time he had spoken in a week._

_"I'm so sorry," she said, looking genuinely apologetic, making him feel slightly regretful of his sharp tone. "I wasn't paying attention. Sorry."_

_"It's fine, just watch where you're going," he said, quietly. He tried to let her go, but his arm chose that moment to... mess up, his gloved hand tightening on her._

_He frowned. "Damnit," he muttered, his other hand flying to his wrist, struggling with it. When he let her go, he stumbled backwards, quickly walking away. He was vaguely aware of her following him. He tensed._

_"What's your name?" She asked. He glanced back down at her, pausing for a moment._

**_"Your name is-"_ **

**_"-Bucky?"_ **

**_"-Barnes is the only Howling Command-"_ **

_"I... I- My name is... Bucky."_

_"Cara," she said. It was a nice name._

_"Nice to meet you," he said,so not looking at her. He kept walking._

_"How do you like the exhibit?" She said. He resisted the urge to ignore her completely and just keep walking. He didn't like her interest._

_"It's okay," he said, staring at the date on the wall that said when he had died. "Some of it's inaccurate."_

_"Really?"_

_He nodded, refusing to look at her. Maybe she would leave._

_As if in in response, she said, "Maybe I'll see you around, yeah?" He felt her touch his arm. He flinched slightly at the contact._

_"Yeah," he mumbled. He kept moving. He needed to get out. Coming here was a risk. He didn't want to stay any longer, couldn't stay here any longer. He needed to run. He needed to run somewhere. He needed to get out._

_Bucky Barnes left the Smithsonian._

_Bucky followed orders._

_Bucky ran._

* * *

Bucky opened his eyes.

The ceiling was white above him. For the first time in days, his head was clear. For the first time in days, it was quiet. For the first time in days, there were no voices or visions,. He turned slightly, seeing the chair Cara had been sitting in was empty. There were tubes going across his body, connected to an IV pole at his side, and in his arm. He sat up slowly, painfully, every muscle protesting, swinging his feet to the ground in an to stand up. He caught a glimpse of the world outside. It was nighttime. He managed to stay on his feet for about three seconds, before taking a step forward, and falling to the ground, the IV pole falling on top of him with a crash he was sure the entire building could hear.

"Bucky?" Cara said, flipping on the light, and rushing to his side from outside his room, pulling the pole off of him, helping him sit up. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Just tried to stand up," he said, letting her help him back onto the bed. He tried to ignore how his face was burning, or how even once he was sitting, she didn't let him go, keeping her hands on his arm and back. "It didn't work."

She laughed. "I can see that. You okay?"

He shrugged. "Nothing hurt but my pride."

"I leave for five seconds, and you choose then to wake up," she said, smiling at him fondly.

"How long was I out?"

"Few days, in and out of consciousness. This is the first time you've really been awake."

"How'd I get this?" He said, holding up the arm with the needle sticking out of it.

"I called a friend in," she said. "You kept fighting me on the whole doing basic things like eating and drinking, and very clearly told me you didn't want to go to a hospital. My friend got me some medicine for you. Apparently you had some sort of infection because of your arm that made your brain swell up."

"Oh...Okay. Thanks."

She was watching him. "Do you remember anything?"

He shut his eyes, seeing flashes. "You... You were gone. And then there was someone pointing a gun at you... You were going to get shot. And I- I was hitting-..." He broke off, looking up at her in horror. "Cara, what did I do?"

"You nearly beat someone to death," she said, calmly and matter of factly.

He turned away, as waves of accusing words crashed around his mind. He had nearly killed someone. And there had been people before, blood on his hands. Had he killed again? He had done it before. But it was on him now, he had done it-

"You also saved my life."

Cara's voice shook him out of his thoughts. Maybe he had nearly killed someone. And maybe he was just a killer. But Cara was alive. It was worth it. It had to be. He looked at his hands.

"Did it scare you?"

"No," she said carefully. "It should have, but it didn't. Seeing you forget who I was did. Seeing you hallucinating did. I thought you were going to die, and that terrified me."

He reached for her hand. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

She was silent for a moment. "Do you remember when I asked for answers? After that trip to the store? Will you ever tell me?"

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" He said, smiling darkly.

She smiled back. "Maybe."

"Do you still trust me?"

"Yes."

"Then please don't dig up the past. Please. You'll hate me."

"Alright," she said, squeezing his hand. "But you know I could never hate you. You're Bucky."

"Cara, if you knew what I've done, you wouldn't think about me as Bucky anymore-"

"No. You said to leave the past alone. So, I'm leaving it alone. It's over. And you're Bucky. You will always be Bucky to me."

He looked up, meeting her steady gaze. She was still holding his hand. He took in the dark stains under her eyes, and the slight tremors in her hand. She looked exhausted. She  _was_ exhausted.

"Do you remember anything else?"

"I remember you saying something. And then you were crying. I called you doll."

"And that was  _adorable_ ," she said, standing up, and kissing his cheek. He shut his eyes at the contact, feeling like some of the weight in his chest was gone. "Now, lie down. I'll be back in a second."

As she walked away, and he sat back, he called out to her. "Cara?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

* * *

"Cara, I'm having Claire drop off some antibiotics. His infection is caused by some sort of bacteria, probably because of that  _horrendous_ metal arm. The good news is his immune system is amazing, extremely amazing, I'd like to study it after this, it's already fighting it off on it's own. We're just going to give him some antibiotics to help. I'll talk to you soon."

Ellis had left the message about a day after his initial visit. Bucky had been looking slightly better at the time, or at least at stopped complaining about the hallucinations, mainly just sleeping.

And now, he was actually awake, seeming better off than before this whole thing (other than the fact that he had collapsed after taking a step, but hey, that was to be expected). But he was okay. He was fine.

_Bucky Barnes was okay._

The thought brought a smile up to her lips, as she leaned against the counter by the coffeepot, a swinging an empty mug around her finger. It may 1:50 in the morning, but the night was not over for her. The more she thought it, the more it seemed true, and the more it seemed like it might be permanent. The more she thought it, the more she could not seem to get the smile off her face.

A sudden movement by the window made her jump, her head snapping up, the action making her drop the mug in her hands. It shattered. There was nothing but the dim light of street lamps outside. It was only her sleep-deprived, overactive imagination playing a trick on her. She took a deep breath, leaning down to pick up the broken glass pieces, muttering under her breath.

"Cara?"

She looked up to see Bucky leaning heavily against the wall, looking like he literally dragged himself out of bed, and through the hall.

"Hey," she said. "You don't need to be up."

"I heard a crash."

"I dropped this. Sorry."

She threw the pieces in the trash, then walked quickly over to him, wrapping her arm around his waist, and helping him stumble back to bed.

"You look tired," he said, as he sat down.

"I am a little."

"Don't sleep in that chair."

"It's been fine so far."

"There's plenty of space here," he said, lying back, turning on his side. "You could catch a few decent hours."

"Bucky, I can't do that-"

"Why not?" He said. He gave her a pleading look. "Please, Cara. Please, it will make me feel better."

She groaned. "I cannot say no to you when you do that," she said, tapping him lightly on the nose. She stood up, yawning, moving to turn off the light,and sitting down next to him, leaning back so that she faced him. He reached for her hand. She was just able to see his face in the dark, his dark blue eyes open and watching her.

"Sweet dreams," she whispered. "I'll see you tomorrow."


	22. The Rest Of This

Cara woke up with curled against something distinctly human. There was a weight over her waist. Opening her eyes, she found herself pressed against Bucky's chest, his real arm wrapped tightly around her. Sitting up slowly, she slipped away from him, her feet landing silently on the floor as she checked the time. 3:31. About two hours of sleep. Not bad.

She looked back at Bucky. His breathing was deep. She extended a hand, lightly trailing her fingers down the side of his face, smiling slightly when he barely stirred. She stood up, unsure of where she wanted to go. She was unable, however, to take more than a few steps before she felt him grab her hand like he had done a few days before.

"Where you going?" he murmured, not fully awake. "It's still dark."

She sat back down. "I don't know. Just needed to clear my head. Go back to sleep."

"I've done enough sleeping for a lifetime," he said, struggling into sitting position. "I need to wake up."

She put her hand on his back, helping to support him as he sat next to her.

"Feeling better?"

"My head's better. Not at full strength though."

"You haven't eaten in a few days. It's to be expected."

"I've gone longer without."

She could feel her gaze become colder as she thought about him going years and years in cryo, not eating, not drinking, not speaking, not living. She thought about what It made her stomach churn. It also made her want to grab a gun, and find every single person who had done this to him. He clearly picked up on her change of expression, looking at her in concern.

"Yeah, and I don't want you to ever do that again."

She grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. He stumbled forward, falling slightly into her.

"We're going to have dinner."

"It's three in the morning-"

"It's a late dinner," she said, pulling him into the kitchen, one arm wrapped around his waist, and helping him sit down in the chair. She opened the cabinet, looking through, trying to decide what would be appropriate for a meal at three in the morning.

"What do you want?" She said, taking in the cabinets. "We have cans of soup, and more cans of soup, and bread, and an apple which I think is covered in mold... You know, let's go with soup."

After hunting for the can opener, and then a pan, and waiting for it for it to heat up, and nearly lighting it on fire (much to Bucky's amusement), their dinner at three in the morning was ready.

"Cara," Bucky said after a few minutes of silence, stirring his spoon around in his soup, nor taking a bite.

"Yes?"

"Tell me about your life before me."

She paused. "What's to know? I worked for a security company, and that didn't work out."

"Where were you born?"

"Russia, actually. I moved here when I was baby. Been everywhere in the world since then."

"You travel?"

"For work."

"Know any Russian?"

"да," she said.  _Yes_.

He smiled.

"я тоже."  _Me too._

"What other languages do you know?" She asked.

"French, German, Spanish, Japanese, Mandarin, Italian, Korean, Romanian, some Arabic, but it's not my best. A few others.

She raised her eyebrows. "Really? Impressive." It was pretty good for a old man who had been frozen for years.

"Oui. Le français était la langue que j'appris de première."

She laughed. "You should speak in French more often. It suits you."

"Русский более естествинный."  _Russian is more natural._

"Show off."

He gave her smirk. "I know."

"What about you? Where were you born?"

"Brooklyn. I told you that."

"How was that?"

"Hard to remember."

"What about your life before me?"

"Before you, I don't know who I was."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "You were a defining moment. That day we met at the exhibit was the day I became me again. You asking me my name was the moment I became Bucky. I have you to thank for that, Cara. You saved me in more ways than you know."

Cara blinked. "I..." She began, falling silent. She remembered it, but she hadn't thought about what that moment had meant for him, seeing himself, his name and face on the wall, hearing his story. And the fact that she had been there from the beginning meant that she had been one of the only constants in his life. Guilt filled her chest as she thought about how that constant was a lie. The Allison Cara Fox he knew was nothing more than a fabrication. When he found out... If he found out, he'd never look at her the same way.

He cleared his throat, taking in her distant expression, and changing the subject. "Tell me about your family."

She thought about it. "We were a real freak show. Dysfunctional as hell. But in a good way. They were good people. Mostly."

"Were?"

She shrugged, glancing at the table. "A lot of people have died, Bucky. The last few years have not been kind to me. If they're not dead, they went insane, or they left. I'm alone."

"You have me now," he said, and his voice was soft. She looked up at him, and he gazed back at her earnestly. There was the peace there that she had seen before. It had dulled slightly, but wasn't gone.

"Yeah. I have you."

"I know it's not what you lost-"

"You're perfect, Bucky."

He gave her a small, slightly pained smile. "I'm not."

"Well. You're the closest thing I've seen."

"Haven't you ever looked in a mirror?" He said, and Cara could see a flicker of the cocky young man who had joined the army once upon a time, a long time ago.

She rolled her eyes. "You know, that wasn't even your worst line."

"What was then?"

"You said some pretty unfortunate thing while you barely conscious. And asked me to go dancing with you. Several times."

He looked mildly like he was panicking, although when he spoke, he kept his voice carefully controlled and level. "And what did you say?"

"I said yes."

He nodded, and fell silent, turning his attention to back to his soup. She watched him, eyes falling on the way his metal fingers idly tapped out rhythms on the table. As she paid more attention to it, she realized it was Morse code.

\-- -.-- / -. .- -- . / .. ... / .--- .- -- . ... / -... .- .-. -. . ... .-.-.- / -... ..- -.-. -.- -.-- / -... .- .-. -. . ... .-.-.- / .---- ----- --... - .... .-.-.- / .. / .- -- / -... ..- -.-. -.- -.-- / -... .- .-. -. . ... .-.-.-

_My name is James Barnes. Bucky Barnes. 107th. I am Bucky Barnes._

She didn't say anything. He didn't even seem to know he was doing it. Reaching across the table, she grabbed his hand. The dots and dashes stopped.

"You told me about your family," she said. He looked up sharply.

"What?"

"You told me about your dad, and how he died, and your mom, and your sister..."

He paused. "My sister," he said, eyes distant.

"Rebecca, right?"

"She was the oldest other than me. She was the oldest after I left."

"They all sounded nice."

"They were," he said. "They're probably gone now,"

He had that look in his eye he usually got when he was teetering on the edge of a breakdown. She quickly changed the subject to something much lighter.

"What would you do in a zombie apocalypse?"

"A zombie apocalypse?"

"You know, with a bunch of dead people who walk around trying to eat brains. Like..." She lifted her arms, and imitated a zombie.

He looked slightly confused. "I've never seen that."

"Wow. You have some catching up to do. We'll go watch some zombie movies after this. But what would you do?"

He looked thoughtful. "I... I'd stay with you."

"Yes, but what if I was gone? What if something happened to me?"

He looked up at her, suddenly seriously. "I wouldn't let that happen."

"We can't always be in control."

"I'd stay with you," he repeated, with an air of finality. She smirked.

"Alright then. Robot apocalypse."

"Same answer."

"Alien apocalypse?"

"Same answer. It isn't going to change."

"What if we were separated?"

"I'd find you," he said, before a brief panic flashed through his eyes. "Unless you didn't want me to-"

"No. I would. I'd find you first."

He shook his head. "Why are you asking about this?"

She shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "Better safe than sorry."

"By planning for the least likely apocalypses?"

"Hey," she said, raising her spoon threateningly. "Aliens have attacked. I was there. There could be an apocalypse next time, and we have to be prepared."

"How close were you?" He asked, looking like he was mildly dreading the answer.

"Too close," she said. She looked thoughtful for a moment before choosing to answer. "I got shot."

He looked horrified. "What?"

"Not bad," she said. She stood up, lifting her shirt and turning around so he could see the scar on her back, on the far left side of her body, just under her ribs. It hadn't been as bad as it could have, not coming from a Chitauri, she hadn't been at the Battle, but from a SHIELD agent under Loki's control, on the helicarrier. The bullet had been far from anything vital, and it had been fixed fairly quickly.

She heard his chair scrape back, and was suddenly aware of him standing directly behind her, his fingers hovering over the mark, not making contact with her skin.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. You didn't do this." She let her shirt fall back down, and turned around to face him. His look was dark.

"That was from a man-made bullet," he said. "Not alien."

"People will take advantage of a situation, Bucky," she said. "Aliens and zombies and robots aren't the only monsters out there."

"I know," he whispered, pulling her into his arms. "I know, I know, I know."

The peace was gone, like a bullet shattering glass. She saw what was left. She settled her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, as he tentatively ran his fingers through her hair.

"Hey. Hey, sorry," she said, her voice muffled slightly.

"Don't apologize," he said. " _You're_ not the monster here."

She looked up, taking his face in her hands. He meet her gaze, letting her search . "You listen to me, Bucky Barnes. There are no monsters here tonight. There's just us, just you and me." Tilting his face down, she lightly kissed his forehead.

"Now, let's go watch some cheesy zombie movies," she said, pulling back. His eyes were shut. She took his hands, intertwining their fingers, and holding them between them. The cold metal was a sharp contrast to the warmth of his other one, his skin calloused. "Let's not think about the rest of this."

He nodded slowly, and his eyes flashed slightly, as he tried to lighten the conversation himself. "Any other apocalypses you want to plan for while we're here?"

She thought about it. "No... But what about now?"

"What do you mean?"

"What are we going to now? What if we have to leave?"

"I don't know," he said. "But if you don't mind, I'd still like to stay with you."

Cara felt the guilt she felt earlier fill her chest again. She hid it behind her mask she had been wearing since she had first spoke to him, letting herself murmur one word.

"Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this during finals... Procrastination at it's finest. 
> 
> I'm super excited for the upcoming parts (i've had some of it written for a about a year now), so expect that pretty soon. 
> 
> Shout out to Mary_yup, shannonscoffecup, and SuperWholockianOwl over on Wattpad for helping me out with the translations. Saved my life. If anyone has any further corrections, don't be afraid to tell me!
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


	23. Another One For The Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to Karliene's cover of We Don't Need Another Hero while writing this, because I wrote it back when Fury Road came out and accidentally turned into the biggest Mad Max nerd on this planet.

Cara seemed to have given up all pretenses of personal space, Bucky noticed, as he looked down at her curled against his side, head resting on his chest. Before this, she had almost been wary around him, then her touch gentle, almost like she was afraid to scare him. Now, it was desperate, like she was afraid to let him go, to lose him.

He didn't exactly mind, he thought, as he studied her in the dim light of the television. She was watching it, but seemed to be on the verge of dozing off. As carefully as he could, he gently lifted his arm up, wrapping it around her. He couldn't imagine the hell that she had been going through the past few days. She said she thought he was going to die. She had run herself into ground trying to take care of him. He didn't deserve this, her kindness. His fingers ran through her hair lightly, as she shut her eyes, finally giving in to exhaustion. He felt an unfamiliar tug in his chest as he looked down at her. It almost hurt. It did hurt. In a good way.

He turned his attention back to the television. Cara had asked her psychotic driving friend (who apparently never slept) about zombie movies, and had a list of all the necessary zombie franchises. They decided to start out with one that was in black in white, and that was what they were watching now. The characters were unorganized, needed a more secure base, the assailants were slow with no clear, developed thought processes, leaving Bucky pretty sure that he would survive Cara's zombie apocalypse.

 _I'd stay with you,_ he had said. He would make sure that Cara survived all her scenarios. That was his plan.

He knew how to survive. He knew how to kill. It was, perhaps, all he really knew for certain. And he would use it to make sure that no one came near them. That no one got him again, twisting him into a worse monster. That no one got to Cara, and did the same or worse to her.

 _There are no monsters here tonight,_ she had said. If she knew about what he had done, would she still be able to say that? Would she still sit like this with him?

She wouldn't. She'd hate him. She's leave him, and frankly, he wouldn't blame her. She didn't sign up for this.

"You know," he said very quietly, the words slipping out. She didn't stir at the sound of his voice. "Sometimes, I think that if I had actually done what I was ordered to do on those helicarriers, and stopped Steve Rogers from destroying those ships, I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

He looked down at her hands, and at his.

"I think that if I had woken up, and seen it, I would have died. That man, he was my best friend. And I almost killed him. Because I almost did it, a lot of other people almost died. Those would have been on me. Sometimes I wonder if you were on that list. The list of people they would have taken out. I think you would have been. You're brave, and have humanity, and you're not willing to put up people like them, and so you'd be a threat."

He held her tighter.

"If they didn't take you out, they might have ordered me to... They might have ordered me to kill you. I would have done it. I would that have shot you, when you weren't looking, when your back was turned. Make it look like an accident, or a mugging gone wrong. I could kill you now if I wanted to. You're trusting me, falling asleep next to me, and that is probably very stupid. But I want you to know, I wouldn't. Not now. They don't own me anymore. They can't make me do anything, they won't be able to, ever again. You're safe here, with me."

He shut his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers.

"You said I was Bucky. You said there were no monsters here tonight. That you would trust me. I won't let you down, Cara. I'm swearing this now. This is who I am, I know it, and no one will ever take that from me again, no one will make me into a monster again. You can trust me, and it will not be a mistake, I promise."

She shifted against him, murmuring something he couldn't quite catch, as her fingers caught his shirt, holding onto him as if she knew what he was thinking. She looked so peaceful. She had been so tired. He didn't want to wake her, not after the past few days.

He did a quick check of his strength. Some of it had returned, and he didn't think he would fall if he tried to walk now. He remembered coming out of cryo, and his legs had been so weak he had fallen to his knees. No one had been foolish enough to try and help him, sensing the rage coursing in his veins. Waking up made him... Unstable, to say the least. Like then, he had regained his strength quickly, almost immediately being able to go on his mission. This wasn't any assassination. This was simply carrying someone twenty feet. He could do it. He knew he could.

Carefully, he stood up, and gently, more gently than he knew he was capable of, he picked her up, one arm under her knees, one under her back. She didn't wake up, as he lifted her his chest, taking a few steps. He could do this. He was not going to fall, not when he had her in his arms.

As he neared her door, he could feel his legs trembling, threatening to surrender to exhaustion. He could do this. He could do this. As he laid her on the bed, managing to put her down without waking her, pulling the blankets up around her, he felt his legs give out, falling to his knees at her side. Her hair was in her face, and without realizing it, he had brushed it away, fingers lingering lightly on her skin.

"Goodnight, Cara Fox," he whispered, standing up and swaying as he walked back to his room. When he shut his eyes, collapsing back on the bed, all he could see was her face. And he smiled.

He felt so at peace that he did not check the perimeter, and did not see the shadow lurking outside their window, the same one that had made Cara jump, simply waiting to strike.

* * *

Cara woke up, in her bed, to the sound of someone knocking on the door. She sat up quickly looking around. How did she get here? She shook her head, running her hand through her hair. She was sitting with Bucky... And then she fell asleep. He must have carried her here.

The knock interrupted her train of thought, and she stood up, walking out onto the hall. She glanced into Bucky's room. She caught a glimpse of him curled in the corner of his bed, arm glinting in the dull light. She smiled.

As she reached the door, something, call it instinct, made her stop, hand hovering inches above the handle. It was still fairly early in the morning, but it was not beyond the realm of possibility that someone normal would be knocking. There was a chance. But... This didn't feel right. She could quite put her finger on it. Carefully, she opened the door, feeling tense and alert.

The door opened.

"Lewis."

The man looked more ragged than he had before. He was leaning in the door, his eyes dark and full of something like hatred, and fear.

"You left."

"What?" she said.

"You left, and you _ruined_ it. They think I failed."

"Lewis, I think you need to go-" she said, beginning to shut the door. He pushed it open, the force of it making her stumble back. He stepped in, shutting the door almost gingerly behind.

"Stop playing pretend, Fletcher. Stop playing games. Stop. Playing."

She glanced around. There were no weapons in the front rooms, too easy for Bucky to find. She could get to her room, but that would have to wake him up. And then, he might figure it out, or Lewis would tell him, and her cover would be blown. Bucky would see her for who she was. Bucky would know. He would... She didn't know what he would do. He would hate her. She had to do this on her own. She could handle it.

"Who are you?" She said. "And what do you want? I assume Lewis isn't your real name."

"You would be correct in assuming that. I am here, because I was unable to pick you up beforehand. You and your Soldier are an interesting pair. And as for my real name, well, that's classified."

"Who do you work for?"

He smiled, stepping forward, and she felt herself move back. "You know, a few months ago I couldn't have told you. But now that we're out of the shadows, into the light, I guess it doesn't matter."

"HYDRA," she said, heart beating faster, and she honestly felt sick.

"Hello," he said, and he was grinning. "You left me, and they thought I failed in my mission, isn't that funny? They thought I failed, and the person I work for doesn't like failure."

"I won't let you take him back," she said, as she glanced around, desperately looking for anything that would help her.

"You don't have a choice," he said, continuing forward. Her back hit the wall. She looked around. No weapons in view, save a picture frame. "And we're taking you home too."

Her breath caught. "What?"

He leaned down, running a single finger down her face, stroking her cheek. She resisted the urge to kick him as far away from her as possible. He was talking. He was telling her what she needed to know. She needed this information. She had to know exactly how bad this was.

"You're going home. The Deathless is free, and he wants you back, little Firebird. You are going home. The Winter Soldier will return to his ice and continue his good work, and he'll forget ever met you, and all will be right in the world again."

Through the panic filling her mind, she fought down her terror, as his words rang in her head.

_"-You're going home-"_

_"-The Deathless is free-"_

_"-The Winter Soldier will return to his ice-"_

_"-He'll forget he ever met you....."_

She wouldn't let this happen.

She lashed out with her hand, breaking the glass in the frame, and grabbing a shard, and slashing it across it face. He stumbled back with a cry. She acted quickly, ignoring the blood trickling down her wrist from where the glass was cutting her, stabbing it into his stomach. He caught her arm, pulling it out before hurling her to the ground. She tried to get up, but his fist was hitting her face, and he was holding her wrists, she couldn't move her hand, he was stronger than he should be, terrifyingly, abnormally strong. She looked at his arm, and caught sight of a yellow, glowing device running from his wrist to his elbow, separated into segments.

Her thoughts were everywhere, a jumbled mess of pain and fear and confusion. He was some sort of enhanced human. He wanted to take her back to the place she had escaped from all those years ago. He wanted to take Bucky away, back to HYDRA. They would hurt Bucky. Bucky would forget her. And she was losing this fight. She struggled harder.

 _I won't go back,_ she thought. _They're going to hurt Bucky. They're going to hurt me. I can't lose. I can't go back. I can't lose!_

"I can't believe I finally get to say this to someone," he whispered in her ear. "But Hail HYDRA."

His fist collided with her face again. She spat out blood, choking back a cry of pain, twisting to the side, trying to get free, to at least be able to use the glass in her hand. He was still grinning that deranged, terrifying grin.

"Oh Cara, Cara, Cara. You've certainly made a mistake, haven't you?"


	24. Another One For The Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The World Ender by Lord Huron is such a Bucky song, it's angry and Bucky's angry, and I'm angry I let a band destroy my life.   
> Intense chapter full of all parties getting pretty beat up, and there's a lot of emotions, so brace yourselves, there is violence and pain ahead.   
> Also suspend your disbelief about the plot, because I don't know what I'm doing, and I am tired.

It was the sound of glass shattering that made Bucky's eyes open. He sat up quickly, hand reaching for the gun at his side, his feet dropping to the floor silently, flipping the safety off. As he crept forward, he heard another crash, and he heard someone else talking. Someone that wasn't Cara. As he got closer, he could make out their words.

"-say this to someone," the voice was hissing. "But hail HYDRA."

Bucky froze, feeling like the world had stopped. They had found him.

Hail HYDRA.

_He was saying that to someone. It was an answer to the question. He was kneeling in front the chair where they just wiped his mind, head down, knowing only what they had given him._

_"Are you willing to take this mission, Soldier? Are you prepared to do what must be done in service not only to this country, but for the world? Are you willing to give up your and other lives for the sake of peace?"_

_He had been silent for a moment, before raising his head, and saying, with utter, broken conviction. "Hail HYDRA."_

Hadn't he escaped those words? They couldn't have found him. They couldn't be here.

The voice was speaking again, shaking him out of his thoughts.

"Oh Cara, Cara, Cara. You've certainly made a mistake, haven't you?"

_Cara._

A feeling of cold he had felt before crept through his bones, fighting down the flashes of a red hot fury that was burning through his veins like flames, and numbing the agonizing, dizzying fear. They knew her name. They knew her. They had her. But he couldn't think about that now. He had to focus. He began to walk forward now, staying in the shadows until he could get a good idea of what was happening. When he saw the scene in front of him, he had to take a step back.

Cara was lying on the ground, mouth covered in blood, a bruise on her cheek, holding a large piece of bloody glass held like a knife. It was currently useless, her hands pinned to the ground, and she was underneath the man who had been talking, desperately struggling to get free. She snarled up at the speaker, like a caged, wounded animal.

As he clenched his fists, he let himself slip into a different mind, the cold consuming him. The other man had no weapons, although there was something on his arm, glowing, yellow. If he could get him off her, she would be safe.

He didn't waste any more time in running forward, knocking him to the side, punching him hard in the face with his metal hand. The man looked up at him, and Bucky recognized it as the man she had gone in a date with. Lewis? He felt a sense of satisfaction to see that he already had a deep cut on his cheek and nose, and a stab wound to the stomach. 

The man tried to hit him, but Bucky caught his wrist, squeezing his hand until he heard a the crack of a broken bone. The device flickered slightly as the man screamed. Bucky took that opportunity to throw him into the wall. He slid to the floor, motionless.

Bucky took a few deep breathes, staring at the figure, not wanting to turn his back completely. He glanced at Cara, seeing that she had struggled to her feet. She wasn't crying, there were no tears in her eyes, but she looked visibly shaken, hands held in front of her chest, blood running down her wrist. He reached for her, pulling her closer as she stumbled towards him. Gently, he wiped the blood off her mouth, before tilting her head up to look at him. She avoided his gaze, as he kissed her forehead. She kept getting hurt, and he had been doing nothing to stop it. He was failing at his mission. He took her hands in his. The glass had cut the left one to shreds.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

She shook her head.

"Is he alone?"

She nodded.

"You could have called me. I could have helped you."

She shook her head again, breathing becoming more like sobs. But she still wasn't crying. She wasn't looking him in the eye, but she wasn't crying. He wrapped his arms around her.

"You're okay."

"Bucky," she whispered, shutting her eyes. "You didn't hear him?"

"No. Not until the end."

"He said horrible, horrible things."

He would have threatened her. He would have said things he knew would hurt. But Cara was strong. She wouldn't have let him get to her like this. Something was wrong. Bucky breath caught. Had he told her about him? Did Cara know who he was now? What else would he have said?

"It's okay. It's okay now."

"That's sickeningly adorable," the man said suddenly, rising to his feet with a sneer. "They said you two were together. I didn't think like that. You _almost_ look human."

Bucky lifted the gun in his hand, and tried to push Cara behind him, but she refused to move, staying at his side, staring down the man. He settled for keeping his arm in front of her, hand on her hip.

The man nearly rolled his eyes. "Do you think that is going to protect her? My orders are to bring you both in, and I am not going to let months of research and work just because you have little crush."

"Leave her out of whatever this is. You want me."

" _We_ want you. _They_ want her. It's a symbiotic relationship that's been in play for decades. I don't mess with the system."

Cara shuddered.

The man noticed, turning his attention to her. "This is your fault, you know. You lead me here. You lead me to him. Everything they do to him, every life he takes, is on you."

Bucky looked down at her, for only a moment. She was staring ahead, completely emotionless, like that first day in the rain, nails digging into her neck. He thought he almost caught a flicker of fear, but then it was gone, and he was looking away, back at the enemy at hand.

"Just leave her alone," he said, lowering the gun. "Please. I won't struggle. I'll go with you. If you just leave her alone, I'll go with you."

"That's not an option. Only taking one of you is a failure, hence why I didn't just take her. She's _weak_. She isn't a soldier, not like us. I could have dragged her out of here and you would never even have known it. But I have to take both of you, and I've never been one to back down from a fight."

"This is your last chance to get out."

"Oh, shut up," the man said. "I didn't think you would be this sentimental. Let's me make this _extremely_ clear. No matter what you try to do, you're going to lose."

"Have you ever actually seen me fight before?" Bucky said. "I don't lose."

"You did lose though, didn't you? When you fell off that train."

Bucky clenched his fists.

The man laughed, and it made him feel sick. "You'll lose now too. See, I'm very good at my job. And even if you manage to kill me, I swear, my last act will be putting a bullet through her skull, so you'll have to watch her die with me, and you still lose."

Bucky felt sick, an image of Cara staring blankly up at the ceiling with a hole in her head flashing behind his eyes. She put a hand on his, and he was back, and he knew he couldn't let that happen. He  _wouldn't_ let that happen. 

"That's not going to happen," he said. "And someone would have heard this by now. They must have called the police. Think of all the civilian witnesses."

He didn't want to fight. He didn't want to kill. He just wanted to get him and Cara out of this alive.

"Oh, them? I wouldn't worry. They've all taken an unexpected vacation."

"You can't do this," Cara said suddenly. "You can't fight us both. He won't lose this, he has me."

The man looked thoughtful. "You're right, I guess," he conceded. "I can't fight you both."

He pulled out a gun, aiming it quickly at Cara—before Bucky even knew what he was going to do, before Bucky could do anything to stop him—pulling the trigger.

"No!" Bucky screamed, firing his own gun, and knowing that he missed. He caught her as she stumbled back, collapsing into his arms, clutching her chest. Her fingers were trembling, and she stared up at him, struggling to speak, but only small gasps escaping her. He stared at her, and it didn't feel real, it all felt distant. That man had pulled a trigger, and Cara was in his arms, how had that happened? He rocked her slightly. Cara was shot. Cara couldn't be shot.

"There. Now I'll only fight you."

His head shot up, the man's voice snapping him from his thoughts, and he stared at the man, clutching his broken arm, blood dripping down his face. Bucky stared at him, imagining every single way that he could kill him, all thought of peace gone, as he held Cara's limp form tightly.

"What did you do?" He said, and even though he tried to keep his voice controlled, he heard the rage behind his words.

"Don't worry. She's not hurt too badly. That would be bad for business. No, that was a paralytic bullet. It probably didn't even go past her ribs. Stings a bit, but she'll be fine in a few hours."

"I'll kill you," he said, slowly. "You'll die for this. I'll kill you."

"Well. You can try, can't you?"

Bucky looked back down at Cara, who was still gasping for air. Her eyes met his, as she grabbed his hand tightly. She was shaking. Whatever that bullet did, it obviously hurt much more than "a bit". She was hurting. Cara was hurting.

"Kick his ass for me," she struggled. "I'll help you... when I'm up."

"Don't worry about this," he said. "You can get the next one." She gave a small laugh, through the tears in her eyes, 

"Be careful," she said. "Please be careful."

He gently put her down, and stood up slowly, taking a deep breath, as he looked up at the man. Right arm was a weak point, look like he had a broken rib on the same side. Left handed. Opening for an attack. 

The man looked almost gleeful when he spoke again. "You know, the real reason I chose this assignment was because I wanted to see if I could beat the great Winter Soldier. I nearly won just by taking out a girl. Is that what you are? Have you grown a heart, after all these years? Big mistake. Attachment is dangerous, you know."

"No. you made the mistake. You hurt someone I care about. You threaten her. You're taunting me. And you're trying to take me back to them. Attachment isn't the danger here. _I am_. And I think you might be the one person on this planet who I'll enjoy killing."

"That sounded much more like the you I expected. Like something a _monster_ would say. What happen to that heart?" came the snide remark.

"I never had one," Bucky snarled, lunging forward, tackling the man, knocking the weapon out of his hand. His knee hit the broken rib, and he hit him across the face, in the same place where he saw the bruise on Cara's cheek, and he felt a surge of near elation, unable to keep a smile off his face, as he hit him again, and again, and again.

"See?" the man said, spitting out blood. "You like hurting people. This is who you are."

Bucky paused mid punch, and the man took advantage of it to push him to the side, and kick him in the face. Bucky lay there for a moment, dazed. 

"You are _nothing_ but a weapon."

His foot hit him in the chest, knocking him back, with a grunt. He landed next to Cara, where she was trying to drag herself up. Trying to help him.

The man stood over him. "You will never be anything more than what we made you," he said, as he brought up his foot and brought it down on Bucky's human arm. He cried out, twisting onto his side, trying to escape.

"Bucky!" Cara yelled. "Stop it! Leave him alone!"

"You don't deserve her," the man said leaning down, and whispering in his ear, making him look at her. She was staring at him, pushed up on her arm, unable to move much beyond that. "You will _never_ be good enough for her."

The man's foot collided with his ribcage. He cried out again, shutting his eyes.

"You are nothing but a killer. A monster. The Winter Soldier."

"Don't listen to him," Cara was whispering, and he knew it was hurting her to speak. "He's the only monster here, and then there's you and me. You're Bucky. Remember. Don't let him take it away from you. You have to remember-"

She broke off, and there was a muffled cry, and he opened to see her lying back down, the man's hand on her mouth, and he had a knife pressed into her stomach, just deep enough to draw blood... Everything else, all the man's words, the pain from the fight faded away in the rush of blind fury that followed.

Each punch felt like nothing. He was faintly aware that occasionally that one of the other man's hits would actually land on him, but the pain was muted. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinking that he couldn't kill him yet, he had to find out if more people were coming, if they need to run _now_. 

But that man had been hurting Cara, and he needed to pay. 

After a few more minutes, he realized that the man wasn't fighting back anymore. Bucky looked down to him him, bloody and unconscious, barely alive. Bucky stumbled back, looking down at his hands, covered in blood. He glanced at Cara, who was watching him, having pushed herself back up, searching for any sign that she was repulsed by what he just did, that she was scared. He didn't see any of it. Only Cara, looking at him like he was Bucky. Kneeling beside her, he reached for her, shaking, wanting nothing more than to hold her, despite the blood on his hands. She wrapped her arms around him. The moment seemed to last forever, as he breathed her in, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder. She was still shaking.

The man stirred to their left, and Bucky pulled back, standing up, and reaching over to drag the body behind him.

"You don't need to see this," he murmured, as he began to limp towards the door.

"Bucky," she said. He looked back at her. "Be careful."

"You don't have to worry about me."

As he was leaving, he heard her say, "Yes, I do."

* * *

The building Bucky chose to interrogate the man in was a warehouse in Hell's Kitchen, old, and abandoned, far from anyone who might care. It was probably used by the Russian mob for the same purposes. He didn't care. He'd fight them too.

He sat the man down in an old rickety chair, sitting across from him, as he patiently waiting for him to fully come around. He had found industrial grade chains that even he couldn't break, using them to on the man's hands and feet.

The man blinked awake slowly, looking up at him. He smiled.

"Hello there, Soldier."

"Does all of HYDRA know we're here?" Bucky said, leaning forward, and resting his arms on his legs. He almost would look relaxed if it were not for the gun hanging out of one hand, and the knife hanging out of the other.

"I can't tell you that."

"Fine. I'll cut off some fingers. Maybe then you'll share," he said, standing up, holding up the knife. It glinted in the dull light.

"Do you think that's the worst that can happen to me? HYDRA will erase me. You know what they can do. They'll leave behind a dead husk, only good for an example if I fail them."

"You've already failed them. I'll give you a clean death."

The man began to laugh, tilting his head back. "I'm dead anyways."

"Let it be as painless as possible."

He began to laugh harder. "Do you love the girl? Do you love Cara _Fox_?"

Bucky stopped. "Don't say her name."

"Right. Her _name_. Do you love her?"

There was something about the way he said "her name" that didn't sit right with Bucky, but he kept silent, glaring at him steadily.

"I'll take that as a yes. Tell me, does she know what you are? Will she ask you after? Will she be able to forgive you after this?"

"Shut up," he said.

"Oh, but you wanted me talking and now I'm having fun. You know, she's pretty. I don't blame you. If that date had gone right, imagine how far I would have got with her. Imagine my lips on hers, my hands pulling off her clothes. Oh, but I bet you imagine doing it yourself. Maybe you already _have_ done it. If so, tell me all about it-"

"Shut up!" Bucky yelled, turning around, trying not to slaughter the man he was supposed to be interrogating.

"Don't worry. Maybe they'll let you keep her for a while before they hand her off. Of course, before they give her to the Deathless, they'll have to wipe her memory, probably in the same chair as you. You won't even know who she is then. You'll probably be the one to put her in it, as she begs for your help, and you ignore her-"

Bucky spun around, stabbing the knife into into the man's leg. He screamed in response, it soon turning into more laughter.

"You do love her," he snarled through the pain. "You don't know what she is, do you? You know what, I'll let you figure it out. It'll be so much better that way."

"Tell me who else knows."

The man glared at him, before he shrugged suddenly. "I'm dead anyways. Only a limited number of people know I'm here. They gave me four weeks to bring you in, and that was four days ago. When those four weeks are are up, they send in a team. You move suddenly, and they send in a team. You do anything suspicious, they send in a team."

"Why wait?" Bucky said. "Why not send in a team instead of you?"

"We're stretched pretty thin at the moment. We lost our best assassin. Your buddy Captain America is tearing up facilities everywhere with his winged friend. Black Widow is assembling the rest of the Avengers. What's left of SHIELD is fighting for control. It's absolute chaos." He said chaos with a grin.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I don't have anything to lose. But Cara, precious Cara... You still have her. You won't for long, of course, but you have her now. We're gambling, and I'm going to win because I don't have anything. You're going to lose, and you you're going to know it. When they tear her away from you, you'll never see her again, and you'll know you lost."

" _No_."

"No? You're just a puppet. That's all you are. You're both just puppets. And what do puppets do when their strings are cut?"

Bucky stared at the man as he leaned forward, about to answer his own question.

Bucky raised the gun without hesitation and shot him in him through the head.

Staring at the body for a moment longer, he looked down at the gun. This was the first time he had killed since escaping. He didn't even feel anything.

There was a box of matches on the floor. Bucky picked it up, striking one, and throwing it into the man's lap. As he shrugged on a jacket he had stolen to hide the bloodstains and his arm, he thought about all the things he had said. About how he was nothing more than a weapon. How Cara would never accept him, much less forgive him. About how someone wanted her. About how he was truly a monster. They would haunt him for a long time, he knew that. He didn't care.

The silence on the walk back was a blessing and a curse, because while it freed him from the words of others, it let them echo repeatedly in his own voice around his head.

But now he knew, and he knew it for sure.

HYDRA had tortured him for too long, and this was the last time. They had taken his name, his identify, twisted him into something else, but they weren't ever going to do it again. He was going to see that chaos, raise a little hell.

They had made the Winter Soldier.

And they were going to regret it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, this is basically going to be two author's notes, because the only joy I find in life comes from leaving cliffhangers without a word (just kidding. for the most part). Forgive the length of this.
> 
> The chapter titles are based on one of the last lines from "Night of The Living Dead", the movie Cara and Bucky were watching back in the other chapter, where they go "That's another one for the fire" after they shoot a guy, and then proceed to throw him in a bonfire. Cause I've been reading too much asoiaf, and watching too much Game of Thrones, and in this story Cara symbols are fire/summer and Bucky are ice/winter, I decided to run with it.
> 
> I felt kinda bad for taking Cara out of the game, but I really wanted Bucky to be the one to fight the Hydra goon. Poor Cara is exhausted and emotionally drained, and not a supersoldier like the other two, and really does not need to be fighting anyone right now, especially not a Centipede soldier. What she needs is a nap. And maybe some chicken nuggets.
> 
> While Lewis/the man (Bucky doesn't use his name because names are incredibly important to Bucky, and he wants to deny HYDRA the same thing they denied him) was voicing both Cara's and Bucky's fears and insecurities (it almost made me sick writing some of that stuff, please know that I was just trying to keep with his character, and it wasn't me), hitting them where it hurts, I'm like 93.3% sure he's not a mindreader, just a good, sociopathic, manipulative spy.
> 
> Fight scenes are hard. There were tears involved in writing this. Literal tears. It didn't help a lot was written after an emotional concert experience (the reason for as-before-mentioned Lord Huron emotions) at like three in the morning.
> 
> The science bullet is weird. Shout out to the people on Wattpad to have helped me with that.


	25. Convalescence & Confessions

Bucky came back late that evening, after making sure evidence of his involvement in the murder was covered up. He then found the man's apartment, and searched it, finding nothing of any interest (other than a bullet hole in the television). Coming home, he checked all the surrounding areas, finding no one else ready to attack them, no one else hidden in the shadows, and made sure all their neighbors were indeed simply sleeping (he had no idea how the man had handled that one, but it was true. Not one of the neighbors was harmed, or awake, or a spy), he came back. He stripped off the jacket as soon he stepped through the door.

"Cara!" He called out, walking forward. There was a streak of blood on the wall, ending in half of a handprint. He imagined her stumbling into it, her hand cut up, struggling to walk forward. It lead to her room, the door half open.

Bucky pushed his way in, eyes flitting around, and almost immediately, he saw her. She was pressed against the wall, her hands extended, palms up. Her head was down, and her hair fell in her face. Kneeling in front of her, he took the one that had been cut. Her head snapped up, and she met his gaze for a single moment, before looking away. She looked like she had been close to crying. There were still bits of glass in them, and he saw where the blood had dried dripping down her wrist. Stepping back, he walked to his room, where he kept some spare medical equipment. He had went out and bought them while Cara was at work one day, stashing it beneath his bed, hoping he would never have to use it. She hadn't moved when he got back.

"Hey," he whispered, sitting down in front of her, taking her hand again. "I'm going to try and fix what I can."

She didn't answer, didn't respond, barely even reacted as he began to pull out bits of glass, cleaning out the cuts, and wrapping her palm in white gauze. She didn't make eye contact with him, staring off at some distant place on the wall.

When he was finished, he sat down next to her, their hips and should parallel and pressed together.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. She shook her head.

"Don't be. You helped me," she said. _"I_ should say sorry."

Not saying anything, he gently (although slightly hesitantly) wrapped his arm over her shoulder. She reacted almost instantly, pulling herself toward him, wincing slightly as she curled against his his chest, letting him wrap his other arm around her waist, holding her.

"Is the bullet still..." he paused as he searched for the right word. "Working?"

She nodded. "I tried to get up. I tried to help you. Shit, it hurts."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured into her hair, and he was truly sorry, even if she said he didn't have to be. He was sorry that she had this done to her. He was sorry he couldn't stop it. "You said a doctor came to help me. Can we call them?"

"My phone," she said, waving towards the small table by the bed. "Name is Ellis."

He nodded, lifting her up, carrying her again, and setting her on the bed. Her bedside drawer was hanging open, and he caught sight of a handle of a handgun. So that's why she had come in here. She kept it in the same place he did. He pushed that to the back of his mind. Picking up her phone, he looked through her contacts.

_B. Banner_

_C. Barton_

_J. Constantine_

_Chas- call if Constantine is being difficult_ (he wondered what that was about. Maybe he'd ask her one of these days).

_M. Ellis_

He called quickly, as Cara watched him. The phone rang a few times, before a slightly overwhelmed sounding voice answered.

"Hello? Cara? Listen, this might not be the best time-"

"Cara's hurt. We need help," he said shortly.

"What?" Ellis said. "James, is this you? What happened? Where's Cara?"

"Cara?" A second voice said. "As in Cara _Cara_?"

"Yes, Phil. I assume you remember Cara. You've known her since she was seven. Now, please continue, James."

"Someone attacked us, and shot her with some kind of bullet that acting as a paralytic. She's in pain, she's having trouble moving. I... I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do."

Another voice piped up suddenly. It sounded young and feminine, with a British accent.

"What? Paralyzed her? Did it knock her out?"

"No. Who the hell are you?"

"Right, sorry. I'm Jemma. I sort of, kind of know Dr. Ellis. I can help."

He faintly heard another voice shout in the distance that they couldn't be helping random people who just broke in, but was shushed by the one Bucky was pretty sure was called Phil. He faintly wondered what Ellis had been doing, and how many people there were. He switched on speakerphone, putting it down.

"Describe what the wound looks like for me," Jemma said. He looked at Cara, who began to pull up her shirt, before wincing.

"Can you help me get this off?" She said. He nodded, gently lifting it over her head. She didn't seem at all shy about the fact that she was sitting in front of him, wearing very little on her top. All thoughts about anything that could be considered inappropriate were quickly dispersed when he saw the scar under her collarbone, and the shallow cut on her stomach. There were other scars too, ones he hadn't known about. And then there was the entry wound of the bullet. He nearly left right then and there, with every intention of tracking down whoever gave the man orders to do this. And he told himself that if he did that, it wouldn't be running away.

"It's in the center of her chest, doesn't look that deep. There are blue marks around it that look like veins. It's bleeding slightly."

"Might be like the I.C.E.R.s, some form of dendrotoxin, perhaps combines with some sort of electrical charge, that would explain the paralytic effect, and blue appearance from where it entered the bloodstream. It basically temporarily shuts down the muscles, that's why it hurts," Jemma rambled very quickly. He could barely keep up. "It should wear off soon, but you're going to need to clean it up or run the risk of infection, would would possibly be fatal, much worse than the original injury at least."

"Okay," Bucky said. "And she's going to be okay?"

"Most likely."

"You can call me if she isn't improving," Ellis said. "And I will be there when I can. You take care of her, James. Promise me that you will keep her safe."

"I can hear you," Cara said, although she looked faintly amused. "I can take care of myself, Dr. Ellis. I'm not a child anymore."

"Cara. You're injured. Take the night off. Let someone else do the worrying for once."

"She'll be okay," Bucky said.

"James, can speak to you for a moment?"

He let his eyes drift to Cara, who nodded. Picking up the phone, he turned off the speaker and put it to his ear, as he walked away.

"What?" He said.

"What happened?"

"We were attacked. Cara got hurt," he repeated.

"Who were they? Were they looking for you or Cara?"

He paused. "Both," he said reluctantly.

"Tell me exactly what they said about Cara. Who is looking for her?"

"I don't know. They mentioned something called the Deathless."

There was a pause on the other end.

"James," Phil said, speaking up for the first time since asking about Cara. "I don't know who you are, but Cara seems to trust you. You need to get out. Both of you. Now."

"We can't. If we leave suddenly, they'll send in a team. I can't fight a team, not right now."

"Set something up so you can disappear, get out of there by the end of the week."

"Who is it?"

"Someone Cara got away from," Ellis said, speaking up again. "And if she goes back, it would kill her."

"I need to know who it is," Bucky repeated.

"I can't say. All you need to know is that if the Deathless finds her, Cara will die, alone and scared and in agony."

Bucky shut his eyes. "What do I tell her?"

"She knows it's bad. Stay with her. Watch her back."

"Who are you?"

"Doesn't matter," Ellis said. "Cara is the the closest thing I ever had to a daughter. You do not let her go back to that place, do you hear me?"

"Who are they, and why do they want her?"

"The Deathless is a dangerous man, a man of science and faith, reason and magic. He's insane, driven by lust for knowledge, perfection, life, death, love. And he mistakenly thinks that Cara will give him those answers. That is all I will say."

"How do you know her?"

"Not my secret to tell. Now, if you know what's good for you, you leave it alone. Protect her. Not just from the Deathless but from herself. She can handle people fighting her, but this will have done something else entirely. Please, make sure she's okay."

Bucky was silent for a moment. "I don't think I'm the best person-"

"I don't care. You are all she has right now. Now I have to go. By the way, I'm glad you're feeling better. Make sure that Cara is okay."

The line went dead.

Bucky was left standing there, staring at Cara's phone. He took a deep breath, slowly processing all that information, before going back to Cara. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her hands. She didn't move when he sat down, sitting almost motionless.

"What was that about?"

"They wanted me to make sure you're okay."

She nodded slowly. "Oh."

"Are you?"

She looked up at him, giving him a forced smile that didn't meet her eyes. "I'm fine."

He gave her a hard look. "I don't believe you."

She looked away, picking at the shirt in her hands. "Can you help me?"

"Give me a second, you heard what they said about letting it get infected," he said, standing up, and going to the bathroom. After wetting one of the rags in hot water, he walked back, gently pressing it on the bullet wound, (which had almost immediately stopped bleeding) before bandaging up both it and the gash on her stomach, and helping her pull the shirt over her head.

"Cara-"

"Please don't ask me if I'm okay."

He grabbed her hand. "This is all my fault."

Her head snapped up, and she gave him a sharp look. "Don't say that."

"It is-"

"I lead him here. This is on me. I thought he was safe, I didn't think... I trusted myself. I thought I knew how to read people."

"Not _these_ people," he said. "They aren't normal. They make a living lying and killing and hurting people."

She shut her eyes. "Not all of them."

"Yes, all of them," he snapped, and she flinched. He instantly regretted it. "Sorry. You didn't... This isn't your fault."

She was silent for a long time, eyes still closed. She opened them again, all emotions was gone. Pain, fear, anger, sadness. It looked like she had slipped on a mask.

"Are _you_ okay?" She said, and her voice didn't waver.

"What?"

"He was hitting you... He stepped on your arm. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Been through worse."

She stared at him, emotionless. "Bucky," she said slowly. "I want to leave."

His heart felt like it stopped beating. He was nodding, only faintly aware of it. She wanted to leave, she wanted to leave him.

_Stay with her. Watch her back._

How could he do that if she wanted to leave him? He couldn't disrespect that, but he couldn't let her go out there without him. And he, he wasn't sure if he could be without her.

It took him a second to process that she was still talking to him. "You'll stay with me, right?"

He looked up at her. She was staring at him expectantly. He grinned, and it was the first time that he could remember smiling this big. Her face lit up, as he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

"Yes," he whispered. "Always. Of course."

"Good," she said. He leaned back.

"We can't leave yet, okay?" He said softly. "Give me a few days to set some things up, just act normally, and then we'll leave, and they'll never find us again. We'll be safe."

She nodded, smiling slightly. "What a dream that is."

"Not just a dream. We _are_ going to to be okay."

She let her gaze drop, although her smile didn't. "You were wrong, you know. You do have a heart. Don't you ever think otherwise."

He didn't answer, gently kissing her cheek. "You should rest," he murmured. "I'll see you in the morning." As he stood up, she reached out grabbing his hand.

"Don't leave me alone," she said, and he caught a spark of panic. "Not tonight. Please. Can you stay?"

He looked back at her, and sat back down. "Alright."

"Thank you," she whispered. She moved stiffly to her spot, curling up beneath the blankets. He stared at her, not moving. "Come on. You'll freeze to death out there."

He gave a small laugh. "It takes a lot for me to freeze to death, I promise," he said, although he slid in next to her, turning off the lamp. She reached for his hand again, shutting her eyes.

"Bucky Barnes," she said, and he cold tell that she wanted to say something else, but was holding back.

"Cara Fox."

"Please tell me you didn't believe anything he said. He was trying to get you angry, get you reckless, break you. That's why he shot me. When he said those things... About you being only a weapon, and a just a killer, and a monster, he knew that it would hurt you because you are the exact opposite."

"You don't know what he meant-"

"Maybe. Maybe, but I know you. And know people like him, and how they work. Those things were to make you lose yourself. And the reason it works? Because they aren't true."

Her eyes were still shut, but she was gripping his hand very tightly.

"Goodnight, Barnes."

It took him a second to remember how to speak. "Goodnight."

He lay there stiffly, turning on his back so that his metal arm was far away from her. He still held her hand with his human one. The ceiling was plain white, and as he stared at it, he could see all sorts of patterns. He felt the seconds tick by as he lay in the moonlight streaming in through the window, Cara curled at his side, sirens sounding outside, street lamps flickering. The seconds stretched into minutes, and the minutes turned into hours, and the hours felt like an eternity. He couldn't sleep, his thoughts jumping around.

All he could think about was how the man had been that close to killing Cara, and taking him back.

How someone wanted Cara, and how strangers were telling him that someone was going to hurt her, and that made him scared. He remembered standing in that store, and being told that she was not all she seemed. It wasn't a mind trick. Cara was special, and he didn't know how or why.

He thought about HYDRA, about what they would do to him, about what they would make him do, and he felt sick.

He thought about walking back, swearing they would never hurt him again, and he thought about how he could make both his missions, redemption through protection and redemption through vengeance work side by side.

He thought about what she had said, about not listening to the man's poisoned words.

He thought about her.

He looked at her. She was asleep, breathing deeply.

"We're going to be okay, Fox," he said, very quietly.

What he said next, he wasn't sure he had ever said it before, not like this. All he knew was that he meant it, and that he would take whatever came with it. He let the sentence simply hang there between them, while she slept, and once he had said it, he too finally surrendered to deep oblivion of sleep.

"I love you."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I had jaw surgery a few weeks ago and my access to computers has been pretty spotty since then. 
> 
> This whole "Bucky-doesn't know who Cara is" arc is going to be over pretty soon, head up, so if you want answers on who she is, and want to know what Buck's reaction is going to be when he does eventually find out, wait a few more chapters, it is coming soon, there is a few more things I need to set up.
> 
> This is like right after Season 1 of AOS, so Jemma's still there. It's like May, 2014 in this story, at the current point.
> 
> Shout out to MarvelGeek2972 and Mary_yup on wattpad for ideas for Jemma's technobabble.


	26. Waiting To Bleed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little bit fillerish, but I have things planned for the future.... And I've had about half of this written for months now and I really, really wanted to use it, even if it might be redundant later.
> 
> The title's from Cold Arms by Mumford and Sons.

_He was dreaming. Cara was sitting next to him, on marble steps that looked out across a narrow street, and a park, with streetlamps flickering slightly . The world was black and white, like one of those movies he remembered watching with Steve in the theater. He didn't look at her._

_"You ever hear that rhyme?" She said, as if they had already been talking._

_"Which one?"_

_"It's about magpies, or ravens. I can't really remember. You count the birds. One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret never to be told. And whatever you get is going to happen. "_

_Some sort of bird flew in front of him._

_"There's one."_

_"Sorrow," he said. "There's a lot of that here, isn't there?"_

_She nodded. "Yeah," she said. He watched as two more birds joined it. "A girl."_

_"Hi, Soldier," another voice said. He looked at his other side. The girl looked at him holding her stuffed toy, still wrapped in the large coat. "I changed my mind. His name isn't Jamie anymore. His name is Jimmy. Like Jimmy the Cricket who sings on the television, and wishes on stars and the pretty blue lady comes and grants wishes. I want to wish on a star, but all I get are the silly birds who say I'm going to be sad."_

_"Hi, girl," he said._

_"Bucky," Cara was saying, and he looked back at her. "Please come back to me."_

_"I'm right here."_

_"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."_

_"One for sorrow, two for joy," the girl chanted next to him. She was suddenly sitting in front of him, counting her fingers. "Three for a girl, four for a boy. Five for silver, six for gold."_

_There were birds sitting around her. Seven birds._

_"Seven for a secret never to be told," the girl and Cara spoke in unison. He looked at her. She was staring at her hands, and they were bleeding. She stood up suddenly, walking away from him. He stood up, trying to follow her, but she was disappearing into the fog, not looking back, and he was frozen._

_"Wait, Cara! Wait for me!"_

_"Never to be told," the girl said. She glared at the bird nearest to her. "It's creepy eyes are looking at me. I don't like it. Go away!"_

_"Cara!" Bucky said, still trying to follow her. "Girl, where is she going?"_

_"I dunno. Somewhere, probably," she said, still glaring at the bird, before standing up. "I hate these stupid birds. They think they know everything, but I'm not going to be sad or have a secret or gold, or anything."_

_"I need to stay with Cara."_

_"Well, then, wake up, silly!" She said, giggling. She began shaking his shoulder. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!"_

_They weren't sitting on the marble steps anymore, the girl wasn't even there, he was standing in a rattling train car, holding onto a shield as he shot at someone, but then he was holding onto something as snow fell around him, a deep gorge below him, and his hands were so cold as he clung to the metal, the wind biting his face, and there was Steve Rogers, looking at him, reaching for him, trying to save him._

_"Bucky!"_

_But it was too late, and he was falling._

Bucky jolted awake, breathing heavily, still feeling his stomach dropping. He ran his hand over his face, sitting up. He was in bed next to Cara, who was still asleep beside him. He was still holding her hand. Carefully, he let go, and slid out of bed, walking to her bathroom. He could still hear the wind howling, the freezing air rushing past him. He could only be thankful that he didn't remember ever landing after the fall.

As he turned on the light, and ran his hands through the water of the sink, he stared at himself in the mirror. He looked paler, features slightly more gaunt, although he supposed that that was because of the "encephalitis", or whatever had made his brain act up.

"I woke up," he said quietly. "It was just a dream, it's over."

He shook his head, thinking about the night before. He had told Cara he loved her. She had been asleep, she hadn't heard him, but it was true. He hoped. He had no other memories of other relationships to judge this against. All he knew was that when he saw her, ever since she had punched that asshole at the restaurant, since she came back to the apartment bruised and beaten, when she cared for him during those few blurred days, he admired and respected her, missed her when she wasn't around, wanted nothing more than for her to be around her, for her to be happy, and safe. And when he had seen HYDRA agent, pinning her to the ground while she bled, the same people who had destroyed his life, and he had been so scared, more scared than he could remember being. And he had been angry, and it had hurt so bad. That was love, wasn't it?

He hoped so.

His train of thought ended, when he heard Cara's voice. He looked out, seeing her murmuring in her sleep.

"Bucky," she was whispering. "Where's Bucky? Bucky, I want Bucky."

He immediately walked back. "Hey," he said, gently touching her shoulder. "Hey. Cara, wake up."

She shifted, turning away from him, saying something he didn't catch, before murmuring, "I want to go home, I want Bucky."

"Cara, you're _are_ home, and I'm right here."

"Let me go," she said, and he saw her grow more and more anxious, her voice rising.

"Hey, hey-"

"No!"

He shook her slightly. "Cara!"

"I'm not going back!" She was speaking quickly, hands twisting in the blankets. "Please, no!"

"Cara, wake up!"

She sat up suddenly, gasping for air, looking panicked and terrified. He sat up with her, jumping in front of her.

"Cara!" He said. She lashed out, and he caught her fist easily before it hit him in the face. He caught her wrists. "You're awake, you're okay!"

"Stay away from me!"

"Cara, please, please, it's me! It's Bucky! You're safe, I promise, you're safe!"

"Please, please, no!" She said, trying to reel away from him. "No!"

"Cara. Cara. It's Bucky. It's me. I'm not going to hurt you. It's me. I promise, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Stop, stop! Please, stop, let me go! I want to go home! Where's Bucky? What did you do to Bucky?"

"You _are_ home. I'm here. I'm right here. You're safe, it was just a dream, I promise. Cara, you're awake."

"Where am I?"

"Safe. You're safe."

She paused, staring at him, and recognition dawned in her eyes. "Bucky?"

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her. She stopped fighting, body still tense. Her hands were balled into fists against his chest. She was shaking violently.

"It's me. It's Bucky. It's me, and you're safe. I promise."

"Bucky," she breathed. "Don't let him take me. Please, don't let him take me back there!"

He paused. If she told him now, he wouldn't have to ask her later. He would know who he was up against.

"Who?"

"Please. Please."

"I won't let anything happen to you again. Who, Cara?"

"I can't go back. I can't go back."

"Go where?"

"The gray building. Don't let him take me back."

He looked down at her. "Who are you scared of?"

"The man, the man, the Deathless. Beloved. Ashes to ashes. Bucky, he escaped. He wants to take me away."

"I won't let that happen," he said quietly, resting his forehead on hers, gently cradling her face. "But I need to know who is scaring you. I can't help if I don't know who I need to go after."

"He's still out there," she said. "I can still hear him." She reached up, covering her ears.

"Shh, Cara," he said, pushing her hair back, from her skin which seemed too hot. "Shh. I'm here, and I won't let anything happen to you. But I need to know who I should go after."

She shook her head, hands dropping in her lap. "It's a secret," she said. "Never to be told. I can't go back. I can't."

"You won't. We're running, remember? You're going to be safe, we're going to be safe."

She was shivering. "Don't leave me," she said. Her voice broke slightly. "No matter what you learn, please don't hate me."

He stared at her, remembering . "You're Cara Fox. I could never hate Cara Fox."

She buried her face in her hands. "You could never hate Cara Fox..." She murmured. "Cara Fox, _Cara Fox._ " She began to laugh hysterically.

"Hey," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "Shh. Everything's okay. Let's go back to sleep."

"You're not leaving...?"

"Not unless you want me too."

She shook her head, leaning against his chest, as he gently pulled her down with him.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asked.

"No," she said. "Not now."

"Okay."

She looked up at him, silently taking in his features like she was memorizing his face. He gave her a half smile. She still looked shaken, terrified. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to help her, so he just began talking, letting the words tumble from his mouth almost as fast as he could process them.

"You know, I used to work for the mob."

"What?" She said. She blinked at him, looking simultaneously worried and confused. But not scared.

"Not like a hit man or anything. I just ran envelopes every now and then to this old speakeasy in a dingy back alley. It got me a few pennies, money that we needed, and was pretty easy. But me being me, a stupid eleven year old, it ended after I flirted with one of the molls. Seven years my senior, mind you, and she thought I was a cute kid and humored me, but it wasn't like I had a chance. Still pissed them off enough to chase me out. Probably a good thing, seeing as the police raided it within a week, and a few people died, and few were arrested."

"I didn't hear about this," she said.

"You wouldn't have."

"That girl okay? The one you liked?"

"Yeah. I think so. Saw her a few times after that, and I think she left them behind."

She nodded.

"This one time me and my friend Steve, we filled this one cop's hubcaps with rocks after he chased us out of the parks for playing stick ball after they closed. Like making it so they rattled a bunch. He'd drive a few feet and get out and wonder what was making all the noise, and me and Steve, the little shits we were, would gather up the other neighborhood kids to watch. And then he would chase us off, and we'd go back to playing in the park while he tried to figure out what the hell we did to his car."

"You sound like an adorable juvenile delinquent."

He shrugged. "That was a long time ago. Probably less adorable back then, scaring my mother half to death, she thought I'd get arrested..." he trailed off. He didn't want to think about his family right now. They were gone, they were gone thinking he had died in the war. He _couldn't_ think about them right now. "What about you? Any childhood stories?"

"I... I had an unusual childhood experience."

"How so?"

"Didn't ever meet any kids my age until I was eight, when I started school, so I was a bit... Strange. Didn't know how to read either, so the other kids made fun of me. They  _hated_ me, made my life miserable. So one day, when the teacher was out of the class, I barricaded myself behind her desk with a slingshot and a few hundred packets of gum, and waged war on them. I got into... Some trouble after that."

"You were also a little juvenile delinquent, weren't you?"

She nodded, falling silent, and then the smile fell off her face, as she thought about something, a memory that was not his, a memory that he did not ask about. She could keep her secrets, even if it killed him not knowing what they were, as long as he could keep his.

He kissed the top of her head. "Night, sweetheart."

She shut her eyes, not answering him, instead turning on her side, pulling him so he was curled around her. He let his lips meet where the space between her shoulder and neck, breathing her in as she found his hand, holding onto it. The rough gauze wrapped around her palm scratched against his skin, and he hoped that she wasn't too uncomfortable with his metal arm around her waist, knowing it was heavier, and colder than a normal one. He also hoped she couldn't feel exactly how hard and fast his heart was beating.

After a few minutes, she relaxed slightly. A few more after that, her breathing deepened, and soon she had fallen asleep, in his arms. For an insane moment, he wondered what it would be like to hold her like this every night, keeping her her safe, her body warm and alive next to him, heart beating. And he realized how much he wanted it.

That HYDRA agent was right though. He was a killer. He didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve this, any of it, and the words kept echoing in his mind.

But he didn't care about that now. He'd think about it in the morning. Her hand tightened on his, her breathing becoming shallower, and he thought for a moment that she was going to wake up. He pulled her closer, holding her tighter, and she kept on sleeping. He was with Cara Fox, and he sure as hell wasn't going to abandon her now.

Not now, not ever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's stories are inspired by some things my grandparents got up to back when they were young. And those aren't even the most interesting ones. I like to think that Bucky and Steve got into all sort of trouble when they were kids.


	27. Winter Was Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just that I've had my account for 2 years exactly, and decided to post a new chapter, yay!
> 
> This chapter is weird, and was just... not difficult to write I guess, but tedious? It took me listening to the entire MTV Unplugged Nirvana concert to crank this out (I mean, I totally would have done that anyways, but man, this was intense for some reason).
> 
> A lot of it was written back when Hannibal got cancelled, so there's a bitter, angry, methaphor-y reference there, if anyone wants to find it.

There is something unsettling waking up the morning after a nightmare. The air seems too still, too quiet. As Cara woke up disoriented and alone, she was well aware of the feeling. She remembered Bucky's gentle embrace, and she remembered what she had been dreaming about. Sitting up slowly, she looked around, trying to figure out where he was. Listening, she caught gentle sounds of movement coming from the kitchen.

Getting up, she walked into the bathroom, deciding it would be best if she rinsed off, feeling like the blood and sweat and dirt from the day before was clinging to her skin.

As she stripped off her clothes, she looked into the mirror, she touched the shallow bullet hole on her chest, remembering how helpless and vulnerable she had felt when she had to wait for Bucky to come and save her, when she watched Bucky be beaten next her, when he left to kill the HYDRA scum that did this to her. She hated the fact that he had had to be the one to pull the trigger. She hated the fact that she herself was a cold-hearted killer who wanted to have done it herself. Stepping under the water, she let it beat down on her, as she shut her eyes. She hated this life. She hated that she had nightmares. She hated being afraid all the time. All she wanted was to be with Bucky, not terrified of what would happen to him, of what they would do to him. All she had now was Bucky, her mission, her friend, her Soldier. And they were trying to take him away.

She hated this.

She leaned against the wall, wrapping her arms around herself. She wanted to talk to Bucky about her nightmare, where she had been walking with Bucky and he had been in his old uniform, and he had been saying words that weren't his, but then he was gone, and she was alone, in a dark room, back as a child while pain burned through her bones, through her veins, and all she could think of was how he had been with her, and then he was gone.

She wanted to tell him that even through the pain of the memory, her fear for him was still there. She wanted him to reassure her that he was fine, she was fine, they were fine, knowing what they were up against. She wanted to tell him about who she was, about the Deathless, about SHIELD, but he would never forgive her for lying to him. The guilt flared up in her chest.

She was going to have to tell him eventually, or this would kill her, she was sure of it.

That is, if he didn't figure it out first.

Taking a deep breath, she stopped wallowing in self pity, and washed up quickly, stepping out of the shower, carefully avoiding the gaze of her reflection in the mirror. Getting dressed (stiffly. Her muscles still ached dully, although the heat of the water had helped), she wandered out to find Bucky.

He was in the kitchen, as she thought, but there were currently two plates of food on the table, and smoke pouring out of a pan, as Bucky muttered incoherently under his breath and throwing it into the sink with a loud crash. Cara couldn't contain the small laugh that escaped her lips. His head snapped up, immediately softening when he saw her, although he looked mildly embarrassed.

"I, uh, tried to make breakfast for you," he said, turning away. "It was going well... until you came out."

She laughed, walking to his side, and his face turned redder. She stood up on her toes, and kissing his cheek. He blinked in surprise.

"Thank you," she said.

"No problem," he muttered, looking at the ground. He stepped back, sitting down. She sat down next to him, looking at what he made. It was scrambled eggs, although half of it was burnt, and half of it was runny.

"We... We were poor when I was younger. Didn't have enough money for eggs, so I never really learned how to cook them right. And I haven't had time to practice in a while."

She grinned at him. "Still better than me," she said. "At least there were no actual flames. Just smoke."

He chuckled. "That's true."

"Thank you."

"It's nothing."

"Thank you, really, Bucky, for everything," she said. "But you know what you're going to have to help me with after this?"

"What?"

"Dishes."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

* * *

Cara hummed quietly as she worked next to him (Bucky didn't recognize the song), water running over their hands as they scrubbed dishes. They had built up over the past few days. This felt so domestic, and trivial, and wonderful, he couldn't be more thankful.

"What are you singing?" He asked, unable to keep the genuine curiosity out of his voice. He wanted to know everything music. He had missed a lot, and he was pretty sure that he had liked music back then too.

She shrugged. "To be honest, I don't really know. Just something I heard on the radio. Music isn't really my thing."

"Never had time for it?"

"Not before this, no," she said. "You?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I don't know how it's defined now. Swing. Jazz. Blues. Old folk songs."

He took one of the plates out of her hands. Their fingers brushed. It made sparks run up and down his arm, even though their were no circuits in it.

"You remember any?"

"Not off the top of my head, no."

"Tell me if you think of any," she said. "I'm trying to see what I've been missing."

"Me too," he said.

She went back to humming, and Bucky contented himself with simply listening to her. He picked up a teacup, looking at the pale blue designs on the surface. They were small blue flowers, and just like that, he was in a memory. Or rather, three memories, juxtaposed.

_He stood by a windowsill, looking at the small petals sitting in the box outside the pain._

_**He was walking through dark woods, rifle in hand, and it was deathly silent as snow fell around them.** _

**He was sitting in a room full of people, and he was hurting.**

_"Bucky," a small voice said. "What are you looking at?"_

_**"Buck," another voice said. "See anything?"** _

**"The Asset completed his mission with minimal damage," said yet somebody else, and it was not speaking to him.**

_"The flowers are awake, Rebecca," he said, lifting up his younger sister so that she could look outside. She laughed in delight._

_" **Nothing," he said, speaking into his radio. "Dead quiet out here."**_

**"Good. Repair his injuries, wipe him, and freeze him."**

_"Why are they awake?" Rebecca asked._

_**Creeping forward, he saw a silhouette in the distance, and recognized the glint of a HYDRA mask. Taking aim, he fired quickly, the sound shattering the silence around him. Several birds took off.** _

**Bucky wanted to shake his head, to say no, he didn't want to go back in, but he was focusing on the gaping bullet wound in his leg. The pain felt unreal. It hurt, a lot, but it felt like it wasn't happening to him.**

_"Because winter's over," he said, grinning. "It's spring now, so there are flowers again."_

_**As he looked around, he caught sight of a few pale flowers glinting through the snow. Winter was ending.** _

**One of the people was wearing a tie with flowers on it. The speaker was smiling, but Bucky, some part of him at least, saw past the flash and charm, and what he saw terrified him.**

**"Welcome home, Winter Soldier."**

Bucky blinked, the teacup falling from his hand. He watched almost in slow motion as it landed on the ground, shattering. He stepped back, blinking and shaking his head.

"Bucky?" Cara said in alarm.

"No, no, no," Bucky said. "That wasn't home. She's gone now, isn't she? That was days before I died."

"Bucky," Cara said, taking a tentative step forward.

"Stay away from me!" he said, harsher than he meant to, and she stopped. He was still with it enough to realize that she looked stricken with her helplessness. "My little sister is gone, and I died, they all thought I died, my family, but I was there. That wasn't home. Home was here, with you, or with them. My family."

"Hey," she said. "Hey, Bucky-"

His leg pulsed painfully, as he took another step back. "I don't belong here. I need to go back. You don't understand, my parents are gone. They need my help, they need me!"

He shut his eyes. He had four younger siblings. He was the oldest. His parents were dead. They needed his help.

"Bucky, it's okay," Cara was saying. "Bucky, listen to me. It's okay."

He looked up at her. "Winter was supposed to be ending, but it had only just begun."

"Bucky, you remember where you are?"

"Yes," he breathed. "Your apartment. New York, New York. United States."

"What year is it?"

"2014."

"Month?"

"May."

"Your name?"

"Bucky." His voice was shaking, and he hated it. He focused on keeping his breathing even.

"My name?"

"Cara."

"Good."

He fell silent, staring at her. She was steady, calm, like a lighthouse in a storm. She was always there when this happened to him. His constant. He didn't know know what he would do without her, and right now he could almost forget that she was that need him last night. He could almost forget about the pleas she had made in her sleep.

 _What a pair we make,_ he thought sardonically.

Cara watched him, analyzing his face, before kneeling down, picking up the pieces. He wanted to help her, but all he could think about were those three memories.

"Sorry," he said, and he began backing up. "I don't... I don't know what that was."

"Don't worry about it," she said. "I broke that mug, remember? We break things. We're human. No matter what, Bucky. Remember that you're human. It'll keep you alive."

He nodded mutely. She stood up, cradling the pieces in her hands.

"Can we fix it?" He said.

"Probably not," she said.

"I'll try," he said. He tried to take the pieces from her. His hands were shaking. She gave him a look, putting the fragments on the counter, and reaching out, taking his hands, stilling the trembling. He stared at the ground.

"Look at me," she said, and it was an order. He knew orders when he heard them. He followed it. Her gaze was calm. "Listen to me. Breath. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, pulling away. It was a lie, and they both knew it. He changed the subject, needing to lock away the emotions that were raging inside his skull. He needed to be cold and analytical. He _needed_ to be the Winter Soldier right now, not Bucky. "You need to go to work today. They'll have noticed you stopped going. Tell your boss you've been sick, and your schedule has been and will continue to be hectic. Don't tell her you're quitting."

"After a few days, I might be reported missing," she pointing out, not questioning the change in conversation.

"Thousands of people go missing every year," he said, not looking at her. "You'll just be another face, another statistic."

"And you?"

"No one is going to do that for me."

 _They would have_. _Back then._

She nodded, crossing her arms, and looking at him hesitantly. "Bucky?" She started. He looked up at her.

"Yes?"

"I'm... I'm afraid."

He gave her a weak smile. "Me too."

He reached for her hand, gaze dropping back to the ground. She took it, and they stood there in silence, until there was a knock on the door. Bucky jumped, glancing quickly at Cara, who gave him an emotionless look. He was starting to see that she did that whenever she was feeling something she didn't want to.

"Stay here," he said, cutting her off when she tried to argue. "It's probably nothing."

The knock sounded again.

He walked over to the door, footsteps silent. He opened it slowly, keeping his foot in front of the door.

It was someone dressed in a police uniform. Bucky eyed him suspiciously, mentally running through all the possibilities of who this man really was. HYDRA, bounty hunter, ex-SHIELD, etcetera. None of them were pleasant.

"Yes?" he said slowly.

"Several people in the building have reported falling unconscious, so we're going to have to evacuate the building temporarily while we investigate."

Bucky nodded, glancing back to where she was waiting. "We'll be out in a moment."

He turned back, walking back to find Cara. She hadn't moved.

"They're evacuating the building while they try to figure out what made everyone pass out," he said quietly.

"They're not going to find anything," she said distantly, but she was walking towards him. "Right, I have to go out in public. Do I look like I lost a fight with a crazy guy?"

He looked at her critically, taking in her bruised face, split lip, and cut hand, before deciding on the honest answer. "Yes."

"Thanks," she said dryly, and he gave her smirk, taking his jacket off the back of a chair, and putting it on her shoulders, like he did before, in the rain. His hands lingered on her for a single moment longer than necessary, but luckily she didn't seem to notice.

"Here," he said. "That might make it less conspicuous."

"Thank you," she said, putting it on, and pulling up the hood so it shadowed her face, hiding the worst of the bruises. "Better?"

He nodded, taking her hand, and together they walked out the door. There were sirens, and police, and their neighbors, and worst of all reporters and photographers. He turned away from them, as Cara lead him down the street, until they stood in the shadows of a narrow alley, where they could observe what was happening. She leaned against the wall, and he stood next to her, keeping his head down, and blocking her from where the camera's were flashing.

"It must be a slow news day if something like this is getting attention," she said quietly. "Imagine the title of the article. _'Everyone In Building Falls Asleep At Same Time. Authorities Mildly Confused_ '."

He grinned. "Someone's going to latch onto it, think it's a giant conspiracy," he said.

"Well, they wouldn't be that far off."

"No, no they wouldn't," Bucky murmured. An agent from an evil, secret branch of the biggest defense program on the planet made an entire building fall asleep in order to reach a supersoldier who once was a friend of Captain America, but was kidnapped by the Nazis and Russians, and made into a brainwashed assassin with a metal arm.

It did sound a little bit like a conspiracy theory.

An especially insane one... that happened to be his life.

"What do you think they'll find?" she said. 

"Nothing. Trust me, they won't find anything of interest, and if they do, someone will find a way to shut them up," he said, his eyes darted over to the police. A small crowd was gathering. He turned away sharply, before anyone could see his face, and looked down at her, where she was smiling, her split lip glaring up at him accusingly. Before he knew what he was doing, he was gently running his thumb over it, making her blink in surprise.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry."

"You said that before, Bucky, and you don't need to be. You didn't do this."

"I still am," he said, his hand falling away. "And I feel like I got you into this. I'm sorry."

"You didn't get me into this, and even if you did, I wouldn't change it. I want to be with you Bucky, no matter what."

"You wouldn't say that if-"

"Oh, hush," she said, not unkindly, giving him a gentle smile. "I know what I would say. I want to be with you."

A sudden camera flash directly behind them made him jump. He spun around. A kid, looking like he was in high school, stood with a camera.

"Wow, that's perfect," he said. "Great shadows, and great representation for It's for the newspaper."

Bucky felt his face become dark. "What?"

"I work for the newspaper," he said. "I'm a photographer. This might be on the front page if there's no superheroes out this weekend."

Bucky imagined his and Cara's face on a newspaper, a beacon guiding who knows what here. He reached forward, grabbing the camera and throwing it on the ground. It shattered.

"Hey!" the kid said.

"Bucky!" Cara said, at the same time. She pushed past him, kneeling next to the kid as he looked at the broken pieces. Bucky felt a twinge of regret. "He doesn't like his picture taken. I can pay you back. You said you worked for the newspaper?"

"Yeah," the boy said. He looked simultaneously distraught and furious. It made Bucky feel worse.

"My wallet's upstairs, and I don't know when we'll be allowed back in. I'll send it to your newspaper. Which one is it?"

"Daily Bugle," he said, looking like he didn't really trust her to actually get him a new one.

"What's your name?"

"Peter. Peter Parker," he said.

"I'm sorry about your camera, Peter," she said, looking truly apologetic. "I hope you don't get in trouble for it."

She stood up, and walked back to Bucky, grabbing his hand, and taking him away. He was silent.

"What was that?" she hissed, when they were a good distance away. He shook his head mutely. "I know you're worried about someone finding us, but you didn't have to smash his camera."

"I know," he muttered, not looking at her. This made him feel worse. He had broken a kid's camera. She glanced at him, sighing deeply.

"Sorry," she said. "Didn't mean to snap. I know you were just taking care of us, and I know you feel bad."

"It doesn't matter," he said. She fell silent, leaning in closer to him. The city buzzed and roared around them, as the. stepped out onto a particularly crowded street. While he hated the sheer amount of people and variables, the simple anonymity of being a face in a crowd comforted him in some bizarre way. No one knew about his past, and now one looked at him as more than a stranger. He was beginning to think that having an actual identity was much more dangerous than anyone let on.

"Hey," Cara said. "You said you lived here? Before, when you were younger?"

"Yeah... In Brooklyn."

"Before I go see if I've finally been fired, we can go see where you grew up. I mean, only if you want to."

He paused. Did he really want to see where he had spent his childhood, where his family, those faceless shadows from his memories, lived, and possibly died? Would it be paying his respects, or would it insult to their memory, to walk there as James Buchanan Barnes, when he was just a ghost of that man?

"Okay," he said quietly, and although he was only going to go see his old neighborhood, it felt like he was agreeing to more.

And he was.

After years and years, Bucky Barnes was going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Choose your favorite song of the moment. That's what Cara was humming (aka, I can't choose, so many good ones, you do it). If you want to know what I thought, then Charlie Boy by the Lumineers captures the essence of this chapter. I think. Different war. Same sadness.


	28. Those He Failed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry it's been months, and i honest have no excuse for that.

_"I buried my heart in a hole in the ground,  
With the lights and the roses and the cowards downtown."_

**\- What Went Down, Foals**

Bucky stared up at the fire escape for a moment before jumping up and grabbing the bottom rung of the ladder, pulling it down. Scaling it with ease, he paused to slide on of his knives under the window frame, unlocking it. It was worryingly easy, he thought as he slid through the window into the kitchen. They were lucky they hadn't been attacked before.

He had just made his decision to go back to his old neighborhood when both him and Cara remembered that all their money was up stairs, and Bucky had volunteered to sneak in, promising no one would see him. She was still waiting in the alley, and he could see her form here, occasionally shooting a smirk up at him. He returned the look with a small wave and a grin, before disappearing into the other room. He found her bag tossed beside the door, and picked it up, making his way into his room. Kneeling next to the bed, he pulled out a box.

Weeks ago, before he had found himself with Cara, he had set up several false bank accounts, hiding away all the money he had taken from HYDRA, so that he could use it later. He had access to them now, and after he did whatever he was going to do today, he'd start making withdrawals. They were leaving. If he could convince Cara, they would only come back here once, to get some things, and then they'd fade away, into the shadows. They were running away together, and some part of of him, some long buried and forgotten part, was giddily excited by the prospect. The rest of him was fighting to keep all emotion out of the way, trying to coldly plan out exactly how they were going to survive this. He put a few blank passports into his pocket, along with one of the debit cards connected to the one of the accounts. Standing up, he kicked the box back under the bed, and walked towards the window. Slipping out onto the fire escape again, he quickly and silently descended the stairs, and dropped to the ground.

Cara wasn't paying attention as he approached her, her eyes on the street. She didn't noticed he was there until he put his hand on her back.

"Hey," he said. She jumped, looking up at him.

"Christ, Bucky, don't do that!" she hissed, smacking his arm. He gave a soft laugh, handing her her bag. She glared at him as she snatched it from his hands. "Nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry," he said, but he couldn't keep the smile off his face. Her face softened, and she rolled her eyes.

"You're a jerk," she said, but he could tell she wasn't angry with him.

"And you're the apple of my eye, sweetheart," he said. She shook her head.

"Flattery won't save you, Barnes," she said, but she was trying not to smile. "C'mon then." She took off quickly down the street, and he followed close behind her, eyes and thoughts drifting between her and anyone that passed them.

_She was beautiful._ He didn't like how that person looked at her, eyes lingering too long in a leer. _Her hair was really, really pretty in this light, especially when she brushed it behind her ear like that, fingers lingering there._ That man was carrying a gun, hidden under his jacket. _He could see her chest and ribs rising and falling with each breath, even under his jacket. Which looked remarkably good on her._ That woman to their right kept checking nervously over her shoulder, like she was being followed. _There was still blood under nails._ The child that ran past him on his left had a bruise under his eye, and was being chased by three much larger ones that were yelling threats.

"Hey!" Bucky said, catching one by the shoulder. Cara glanced back at him. "You fighting him?"

"None of your business, mister," the kid snapped.

"Yeah, it is. He's what, a head shorter than you? And there's three of you? Leave him alone."

The kid glowered at him, before stalking off, his two friends trailing behind him. He glanced back at the smaller boy. He was thin and short, with sandy colored hair and serious eyes. He reminded Bucky of someone, but he couldn't quite put his finger on who.

"You alright, kid?"

The boy nodded mutely, adjusting his bag.

"Next time they hit you, hit 'em back," Bucky said. "They won't be expecting it."

The boy nodded again. "Thanks," he said, before taking off in the opposite direction.

Bucky smirked, shaking his head, the odd sense of deja vu not leaving his chest. He turned back to Cara, who was giving him a strange look. She was smiling slightly, staring at him with a mixture of emotions he couldn't quite identify.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said, but the expression remained.

"I don't like bullies," he said, feeling like he owed her an explanation. "Never have."

"I know," she said, and she fell into step next to him, occasionally sneaking a glance at him, eyes darting quickly away whenever they met his. She bit her lip like she was trying not to laugh, watching the ground. His heart swelled in his chest.

She was beautiful. He loved her. He was _in_ love with her. And while he knew it was only a dream, just him playing pretend, he wanted to be with her in every way possible. He wanted her to love him too.

She stopped suddenly, making him nearly run into her as she attempted to hail a cab. Several passed before one slowed down, stopping next to them. Bucky stepped in front of Cara, opening the door for her, as some part of him deep within his mind told him that it was the proper thing to do. She flashed a smile at him that made his heart stop beating.

He got in, and found himself pressed close to her. He wasn't sure if she was aware of it or not. He certainly was, with what felt like electric shocks running through his metal arm settling at his shoulder. He was sure that it had something to do with nerves and nerve endings, but he didn't quite care.

"Where to?" the driver said. Cara looked at him expectantly. He felt frozen, no words coming to him. He was suddenly felt extremely nervous, stomach twisting, hands clenching. He had no idea where exactly his old home was, not exactly. After a moment that felt like it took forever, he managed to sputter out some sort of coherent reply.

"George Washington High School," he said. It was the name of his old school, where he and Steve went. He remembered reading it on the wall at the Smithsonian. Cara reached over, gently touching his arm. She was silent. He stared down at her hand, pale and wrapped in white gauze, and his chest hurt. That was because of him. He looked up, meeting her gaze, and saw her observing him. Her cool green eyes blinked and a small, worried smile pulled at her lips.

"You alright?" she murmured.

"I will be," he said, just as quietly. She nodded, looking back towards the front, although her hand didn't move from the crook of his arm. He turned towards the window slightly, watching the buildings flash by, along with other cabs, and cars. He looked at the crowds of people, where children ran by, laughing, men and women in suits talked agitatedly on phones, young students carried backpacks. One couple were embracing passionately on the street. One of them had red hair like Cara. He imagine, for a moment, only a single, impossible moment, that that was them, that they were together just like he had been dreaming about earlier.

_"You will never be good enough for her."_

The HYDRA agent's words echoed in his mind, and he looked sharply away. Her hand tightened on his arm, sliding down into his hand, and lacing their fingers together.

_"You are nothing but a killer."_

He shut his eyes, desperately trying to think of anything else, failing miserably.

_"A monster."_

"No," he whispered. Cara squeezed his hand, and he leaned into her.

"Hey," she said. "James?"

"I'm alright, Fox. Really. Don't worry about me," he said shakily, sending her a weak, lopsided smile. She returned it hesitantly, and then the cab was slowing down. He blinked. He didn't remember being in here for that long.

Bucky got out, and Cara followed him quickly. His eyes drifted over the building, unused as a school now for a while, before they landed on a plaque. He walked up to it.

_In Memory of Steve Rogers, and James Buchanan Barnes._

He ran his hand, fingers trembling, over the lettering of his name, while Cara stood a good distance away, as if unsure whether to approach him. That was good. He didn't want her to see that. He turned sharply away from it.

"This way," he said, nodding to the left. It was more instinct than memory. He wasn't even sure if it was right. She nodded, falling into step beside him.

The buildings were unfamiliar and Bucky was sure that wasn't just because of his...amnesia. The world had changed as much as he had. Walking here felt different than it had this morning. It felt like he was in a daze.

Then he saw something that snapped him out of it.

He froze. It was a graveyard, the graveyard he had come to weeks ago, settled behind tall iron gates tightly wound with ivy. He pushed it open, the metal creaking loudly as he walked silently in. It was a fairly small cemetery, nestled between two smaller apartment buildings that looked like they had been there since before the Depression. The stones were cracked and old, but he could still make out the names for the most part. The newest was from the late fifties. The closer in he got, the older they dated. In the distance, he saw one that read Sarah Rogers. He stared at it. He had been here before at her funeral. He had felt sad then, and he felt sad now. She had been nice. She had treated him like her own son. There were flowers on it, wilted but relatively new.

The next ones he found made him feel even worse. One was his own. The other three... They belonged to his parents, and one of his sisters. His father had died while training, he knew that. His mother had died mere weeks after his supposed death. That made his heart twist painfully with grief and guilt, and tears sprung to his eyes, threatening to fall. And his sister, she was the youngest. The baby. She was only 16 according to her tombstone, less than a year after him. The rest of his family... He had no idea where they were. If they were even still alive.

_"-And you'll be back soon, right, Bucky?" his sister asked, as she threw her arms around him. There were people everywhere, saying goodbye loudly, crying, waving, begging for their boys to come home safe and sound._

_"Of course. You got a birthday coming up. Wouldn't miss that for the world."_

_"Bring me back something. Like a bullet. A German bullet."_

_"The only way I'm bringing one of those home with me is if I'm shot with it."_

_"Alright, now, let your brother go," his mother said, looking a little pale at the thought of him being shot. His younger sister reluctantly let go of him. "He has a war to win."_

_"Yes, I do," he said, grinning to hide the fact that he was terrified, and swinging his bag up onto his shoulder and walking off with a merry salute. "I'll see you both soon, I promise."_

_Their tear streaked faces would haunt him for a long time, until that memory was forcibly taken away from him._

_I promise._

A hand on his shoulder made him jump. He spun around to see Cara standing there. He felt a surge of irrational anger. He didn't want her _here_. He didn't want her to see him like this. He ripped violently away from her, tears still threatening to fall. He regretted it slightly when he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and saw the hurt on her face. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry, it wasn't her, he was in pain, physically in pain. He hated this. Maybe these memories should have stayed hidden, kept far away. Maybe there was a reason he hadn't fought that hard to keep them. Maybe he knew that remembering would only bring this.

"Hey," she whispered.

"I can't- I... Not now, Cara."

She nodded slowly, backing away, looking like she was trying to understand him, but hurt none the less.

"You want to be alone?" she murmured.

He hesitated. He didn't want _her_ to be alone. He didn't want her to be out here without him. But selfishly, he wanted her to leave. He wanted to mourn in private. So he nodded, turning away, fighting down the fear that had been lingering in the back of his mind.

"Alright. I'm going to go talk to Mavis."

"Call me if anything happens," he said, still not looking at her, guilty now for turning her away like this.

"Okay," she said. "You too. Anything, you hear me?"

He nodded again.

"I'll see you soon."

He heard her footsteps begin to recede until they were gone completely. He knelt in front of his own tombstone, or maybe he fell to his knees.

This was too much.

Some part of him was thinking that it would have been better if he had really died after the fall, his body lying under the soft dirt and leaves, instead of up here in the poison filth and rot of this world. At least then HYDRA wouldn't have their weapon. He would have died as Bucky, and only Bucky... Unless Bucky, that Bucky at least, was already gone, long gone. He bowed his head, loosing track of how long he sat there.

It might have been minutes, or hours, or days.

He didn't know.

If Bucky had died, who was he? Did he have a right to this name, this identity?

He had to. If he didn't have this... He had nothing. He was nothing.

"Damn you," he whispered. "Goddamn you. Goddamn it all." He wasn't sure who he was talking to.

"Your mother would disapprove of that," a voice said. "Her own son, speaking on her grave like that."

His head snapped up. It was the man from the store who knew Cara. He was sitting on the grave, looking bored. Bucky clenched his fists, standing up slowly, though the man held up his hands in surrender.

"At ease, Soldier. I just want to talk. Have you been thinking about what I said?"

Bucky didn't answer.

"I told you a fairy tale. Do you want to hear another one? It's still Russian."

"What do you want?" Bucky said.

"I want to tell you a story. There once was a man who could not die. They called him many things. Koschei, the Immortal, the Deathless. He was the most powerful man in the land, controlling life and death. He created a child, born not of nature or of science, or magic, and she was his beloved. But tragedy struck, and she was stolen from him, and he was caged by lesser beings. A young foolish man, a soldier or a prince depending on who you ask, made a fatal mistake, and fell in love with the girl. And the Deathless followed him, and when the prince tried to stop him from taking what was his, the Deathless slaughtered him."

There was that word again. The Deathless. The one that haunted Cara's nightmares.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, I can see now why you weren't the one giving the orders," the man said, checking his watch. "It's a warning. Or a threat. Whichever you want it to be. The moral is, do not keep what is ours from us."

"Cara," Bucky said, and it came out as more as a growl.

"Yes. You have it. HYDRA has failed to secure any results. We have a code, but the Deathless grows impatient. Stay out of our way, Soldier, and you will not be harmed." The man stood up.

"She's not yours," Bucky said. "She's a person. She's her own, and I won't let you take her. I won't let you take her back there."

"Then we will kill you. It may damage our relationship with HYDRA, but is for the best."

"You underestimate me."

"No," the man sighed. "I've been distracting you. Goodbye, Soldier. I do hope you take my advice. If you do, this will be the last time we speak."

A shrill ringing made him jump. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Cara's name glared accusingly back at him.

_Call me if anything happens._

_I mean it._

_Anything._

That's what he had said. That was what she was doing. He looked up, and the man was gone.

He felt dizzy, like the earth was swaying beneath his feet. He made a mistake. He sent her away. Whatever happened to her, that was on him.

He knew he was panicking. He was knew that this could not end well for him if he went in with this many emotions. He didn't care. He had to get to her. He promised her that he wouldn't let them take her. He promised.

He promised. He promised so many things.

Bucky Barnes turned and ran from dead he failed, to the last thing he had left, hoping he wasn't too late.

Hoping he hadn't failed her too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I say there's about two or three more chapters in this arc, four at the most. Things are going to be revealed soon, and there will be consequences, both good and bad.
> 
> See you all soon! I hope you're still there, and thank you if you are.


End file.
